which he could extract nothing;--the Squire, looking as black as thunder in his study at Hazeldean;--his mother trying to plead for him, and getting herself properly scolded for her pains;--and then off went that Will-o'-the-wisp which pretended to call itself Thought, and began playing round the pale charming face of Beatrice di Negra in the drawing-room at Curzon Street, and repeating, with small elfin voice, Randal Leslie's assurance of the preceding day, "as to her affection for you, Frank, there is no doubt of _that_; she only begins to think you are trifling with her." And then there was a rapturous vision of a young gentleman on his knee, and the fair pale face bathed in blushes, and a clergyman standing by the altar, and a carriage and four with white favours at the church door; and of a honeymoon, which would have astonished as to honey all the bees of Hymettus. And in the midst of these phantasmagoria, which composed what Frank fondly styled "making up his mind," there came a single man's elegant rat-tat-tat at the street door. "One never _has_ a moment for _thinking_," cried Frank, and he called out to his valet "Not at home." But it was too late. Lord Spendquick was in the hall, and presently within the room. How d'ye do's were exchanged and hands shaken. LORD SPENDQUICK.--"I have a note for you, Hazeldean." FRANK, (lazily.)--"From whom?" LORD SPENDQUICK.--"Levy. Just come from him--never saw him in such a fidget. He was going into the city--I suppose to see X. Y. Dashed off this note for you--and would have sent it by a servant, but I said I would bring it." FRANK, (looking fearfully at the note.)--"I hope he does not want his money yet. _Private and confidential_--that looks bad." SPENDQUICK.--"Devilish bad indeed." Frank opens the note and reads half aloud, "Dear Hazeldean." SPENDQUICK, (interrupting.)--"Good sign! He always 'Spendquicks' me when he lends me money; and 'tis 'My dear Lord' when he wants it back. Capital sign!" Frank reads on, but to himself, and with a changing countenance--