“Fishing?--great fun, capital fun; like it immensely,--no expense, rods and hooks,--rods and hooks; not like hunting,--hunting perfectly ruinous,--I mean for men like myself, not, of course, for your Lordship.” “Poor Lackington!” muttered Beecher, half unconsciously. “Ah!” sighed Twining, sympathetically. “I was actually on my way out to visit him, but one thing or another occurred to delay me!” “How unfortunate, my Lord; and, really, his anxieties about _you_ were unceasing. You have not to be told of the importance he attached to the title and name of your house! He was always saying, 'If Beecher were only married! If we could find a wife for Annesley--'” “A wife!” exclaimed the other, suddenly. “Yes, my Lord, a wife; excellent thing, marriage,--capital thing,--great fun.” “But it's done, sir; I 'm booked!” cried Beecher, vehemently. “I was married on Sunday last.” “Wish your Lordship every imaginable joy. I offer my felicitations on the happy event Is the Viscountess here?” “She _is_ here,” said Beecher, with a dogged sternness. “May I ask the name of Lady Lackington's family?” said Twining, obsequiously. “Name,--name of her family!” echoed Beecher, with a scornful laugh. Then, suddenly stopping, he drew his arm within Twining's, and in the low voice of a secret confidence, said, “You know the world as well as most men,--a deal better, I should say; now, can you tell me, is a marriage of this kind binding?” “What kind of marriage do you mean?” “Why, a private marriage in an inn, without banns, license, or publication of any kind, the ceremony performed by a fellow I suspect is a degraded parson,--at least, I used to hear he was 'scratched' years ago,--Classon.” “Paul Classon,--Holy Paul?--clever fellow, very ingenious. Tried to walk into me once for a subscription to convert the Mandans Indians,--did n't succeed,--what fun!” “Surely no ministration of his can mean much, eh?” “Afraid it does, my Lord; as your late brother used to observe, marriage is one of those bonds in which even a rotten string is enough to bind us. Otherwise, I half suspect some of us would try to slip our cables,--slip our cables and get away! What fun, my Lord,--what fun!” “I don't believe such a marriage is worth a rush,” went on Beecher, in that tone of affirmation by which he often stimulated his craven heart to feel a mock confidence. “At least, of this I am certain, there are five hundred fellows in England would find out a way to smash it.” “And do you want to 'cryoff my Lord?” asked Twining, abruptly. “I might, or I might not; that depends. You see, Twining, there's rather a wide line of country between Annesley Beecher with nothing, and Viscount Lackington with a snug little estate; and if I had only known, last Sunday morning, that I was qualified to run for a cup I'd scarcely have entered for a hack stakes.” “But then, you are to remember her connections.” “Connections!” laughed out Beecher, scornfully.