“Well, well; time passed away--years upon years. I was ordained, and served half-a-dozen curacies--three at once for some time; and then I got, one after another, my two first livings. I was a widower. I had lost the first--no, no, I am sorry to say the second Mrs. Vivian, when one day I heard that Biddy Morrice was a rich widow. Old Upjohns, it seems, had died and left her no end of money. And then the thought occurred to me that we two might come together after all. ‘’Twould be like a romance,’ I said. I found out that she was settled in great style at Bath. So up I went and found, sure enough, she had a splendid house. A fine formal old butler received me, and I sent up my name. I was shown into a splendid drawing-room, with rich furniture, like a bishop’s palace, all velvet and gold. I sat down, thinking over old times, when Biddy used to come to meet me with her rosy cheeks and her strawberry mouth, and a waist you might span with your hand. At last the door opened, and in she came. But alack, alas! such a cat! oh dear, oh dear! and with such a bow-window: it was surprising,--more like old Mrs. Morrice than my Biddy. I was aghast. I never kissed her, as I intended, but I stood staring like a gawky. I remember I offered her a pinch of snuff, which she took. We had a talk, but it was all prisms and prunes with Biddy. However, she invited me to dinner the next day, and I went. Everything first-rate,--turbot and haunch, and so on, all upon silver; fine old Madeira, and glorious port; and that sleek fellow, the butler, ruling over all! There was a moderate dessert, and on the middle dish there was such a cake! ‘I remember,’ said Biddy, but without the shadow of a smile--‘I remember that you are fond of cake.’ Well, after the cloth was removed, I felt all the better for my dinner, and it is at that time I always have most courage, particularly after the third glass. As I looked on the sleek butler and his pompous ways, I thought to myself, ‘I should like to dethrone that rule, and reign myself over her cellar.’ “So I broached the subject of my wishes. ‘Don’t you think, Biddy dear,’ said I, ‘now that my second Mrs. V. has gone, and old Upjohns also out of the way, that we two----?’ ‘O Henry, Henry,’ she broke in; ‘the old Adam is still, I see, strong as ever in you. As sweet Mr. Cheekey says at our Bethesda, “We are all criminally minded to our dying day.”’ Never believe me if Bridget had not turned Methodist, and all that. And so, in short, she cut me dead. However, she sent me this snuff-box, and I had her picture put under the lid. Sweet face, isn’t it? But then it was taken thirty years before that dinner at Bath.”