“Tell your fortune, my pretty gentleman,” observed a gipsy girl, laying her walnut-coloured fingers upon the young man's coat-sleeve. “You are born under a lucky star.” “I may have been born there; but I have wandered far away from its influence,” replied Master Walter, shaking her hand off somewhat roughly. “If you want a shilling, you shall have it; for I have nothing but other people's money about me, and that one always parts with very readily. But don't call me lucky, for that's a lie, you jade.” “Bless your handsome face,” returned the gipsy humbly, “it's a shame that it ever should be crossed by the shadow of sorrow. You can't be unlucky, sir, with eyes like yours--especially,” added she, as the two strode hastily away, “especially among the ladies.” “Do you hear _that_, lad?” laughed Derrick encouragingly; but the young man was too wrapt up in his own sombre thoughts to heed such things. “I must sell out,” muttered he to himself; “that's the first thing. And I must run down to Mirk; there is no knowing what that spitfire there may do else.” “Here's our Hansom, and the fellow not drunk for a wonder!” exclaimed Derrick. “Where's the horse, man?” “In this next booth, sir,” returned the driver. “I will put him to in no time.--I am afraid your honours have not won.” “See, Walter, lad,” cried Derrick in remonstrance; “that's your fault. Don't hang out such signals of distress that everybody who meets us offers their confounded pity. Be a man, lad; be a man. Besides, what did that gipsy girl say just now? Many a wise word is spoken in jest. She said, with your good looks, that you must needs he lucky with the women. I should like to see the heiress who would say 'No' to Captain Walter Lisgard. A good marriage would mend all this, and”---- “Go to the devil!” exclaimed the young man passionately. “You are out of temper, lad,” returned the other gravely; “but don't say those sort of things to me, for I have not deserved them.” “Not deserved them! you have been my ruin, curse you!” continued the other with vehemence. “But for you, you drunken”---- “Take you care, Walter Lisgard!” roared the bearded man in a voice of thunder. “Do not make me strike you, for I would as soon strike my son. How can all this be my fault? Do you suppose that I have not lost also--almost all I have in the world save a few hundreds?” “Ay, mine, I suppose,” exclaimed Walter bitterly. “I know I owe you a thousand pounds.” “Yes,” returned the other, producing his pocket-book, “here are three I.O.U.s bearing your signature, for two, three, and five hundred pounds.” “You shall be paid, sir, never fear,” rejoined the young man insolently. “No man but you, however, would have produced them at such a time. But it serves me right for herding with such people.”