We may be asked what two such undeniable dandies as good-looking Lacquers, of the Lancers, and Sir Ascot Uppercrust, of the Body-guard, should be doing in London at this time of the year. We cannot tell; for love or money probably--a redundancy of the one and a deficiency of the other being the two causes that generally drive young gentlemen to the metropolis, when their confiding companions are all “faded and gone.” Be it how it may, there they were, and Mary Delaval wished them anywhere else, as, following in her wake, they made sundry complimentary remarks upon her figure, ankles, and general appearance, which might have been gratifying if overheard casually, but which, under the circumstances, were doubtless extremely impertinent and reprehensible. “I think I’ll get forward, and ask her if she’s going home,” said Lacquers; and, curling his great black moustaches, he quickened his pace to add this crowning insult to an unprotected woman. Mary’s blood boiled in her veins--she was a soldier’s daughter, and her father’s spirit swelled her heart till it felt as if it would choke her--she clenched her long slender hand, and thought, almost aloud: “Oh, if I were but a man to strike the coward to the earth!--oh, if I were but a man to shoot him as he stands!” In such a mood women have shed blood ere now, but the excitement cannot last--the reaction too surely arrives; and, alas for woman’s pride and woman’s weakness! Mary returned the bold insolent stare with the defiant glance and the lofty carriage of a queen, and then--she burst into tears. It was too much; fatigue, anxiety, and disappointment had overcome her nerves, and she could have killed herself for the weakness, but she sobbed like a child. Lacquers was a good-natured man, and a good fellow, as it is called, at heart--he was pained and thoroughly ashamed of himself. He took his hat off as if she had been a duchess, and with a readiness that argued this was not a first offence, and did more credit to his ingenuity than his candour, he begged her pardon, and assured her he thought she was “his cousin”--“Quite a mistake, ma’am, I assure you--pray forgive me--good-morning;” and so bowed himself off arm-in-arm with his companion, who had preserved an immovable stoicism, almost preternatural in one so young, during the whole interview.