"Put a little spirit in him," cried Sydney, clapping Adolph on the shoulder. "Tell him we can fill his pockets, or empty them. Faint heart never won fair lady yet." I call this, Incident Number One. Again: We had all bidden our hostess good night. Sydney and I stood at the street door, lighting fresh cigars. Adolph had lingered behind. "One moment, Sydney," I said; "I must go and fetch that boy." I re-entered the house, softly and suddenly. Adolph and Grace were standing at the end of the passage, in the dark. "Did I do my lesson well?" I heard Adolph ask in a low tone. "Perfectly," said Grace, "and I owe you anything you ask for." "A kiss, then!" cried the lad, eagerly. The reward was given. "Adolph!" I cried; "we are waiting for you." Adolph came towards me, and Grace, darting into a room, appeared with a light in her hand. Adolph's face was scarlet; his eyes were moist and bright. "The foolish lad," said Grace to me, with perfect self-possession; "I gave him a kiss, and he blushes like a girl. Do you hear, Sydney?" "I hear," said Sydney with a gay laugh. "I am not jealous of Adolph. Good night, dear." I call this, Incident Number Two. Again: On our way home I asked Sydney if Grace had obtained the certificate of the death of her first husband. He replied that she had not. There was no doubt that he was dead, but Circumlocution and Red-tapeism stopped the way. "We shall get it presently," he said, "and then our course will be clear." He spoke in an anxious tone. I suspected the cause. He was thinking of his losses at the gaming table, which by this time amounted to over ten thousand pounds. Every man among us held his I O U's. "Luck must turn, Fred," he said. "I hope it will!" I replied, "with all my heart." "And if it does not," he murmured, "I shall have Grace!" I pitied him, with all my heart; but I dared not undeceive him. [Decoration] CHAPTER XXVI. FREDERICK HOLDFAST'S STATEMENT (CONTINUED). At this time Sydney began to feel the effects of his temerity in introducing Grace to the ball. Certain rumours and whispers affecting Grace's character and Sydney's connection with her, caused the lady patronesses of the ball to institute inquiries, and the consequence was that Sydney was quietly but firmly banished from society. Houses which he was in the habit of visiting were closed against him; mothers who had held out a welcome hand to him now frigidly returned his bow or openly cut him; fathers--bound to an outward show of morality--turned their backs upon him or affected not to see him; marriageable young ladies, with whom, as an unengaged man, he had hitherto been an adorable being, looked any way but in his direction when they met in the thoroughfares. When Sydney became aware of this alteration in his social standing, he tested it to its fullest extent, and having quite convinced himself, proclaimed open defiance. "War to the knife," he said.