How I envied "our position," and what a very different one mine was! However, the notice served its purpose, for it prepared me for what I should have to encounter in London--the sort of running fire of congratulation I must expect to undergo all along Piccadilly, down St James's Street, and along Pall Mall. Should I simper a coy admission, or storm out an indignant denial? On the whole, the most judicious line seemed to be to do each alternately. The prospect of puzzling the gossip-mongers generally almost consoled me for the feeling of extreme annoyance which I had experienced. "The imbroglio must clear itself at last," thought I, "but it will be a curious amusement to see how long I can keep it from doing so;" and I bought an evening paper as I approached London, by way of distracting my mind. The first news which thrilled me as I opened it was the announcement of the assassination of President Lincoln. I am not going to moralise on this event now, and only allude to it as it affects the story of my own life. It saved me that evening from the embarrassment I had anticipated; for even when I went to the Cosmopolitan, I found everybody listening to Mr Wog, so that nobody cared about my private affairs, and it induced Lady Broadhem to make a secret expedition into the City of a speculative nature next morning, as I accidentally discovered from Spiffy. It is not impossible that the knowledge of this breach of faith on her part may prove a valuable piece of information to me. I sauntered into "the Piccadilly" on the following afternoon, armed at all points, and approached the bay-window, in which I observed Broadhem and several others seated round the table, with the utmost _insouciance_. They had evidently just talked my matter over, for my appearance caused a momentary pause, and then a general chorus of greeting. Broadhem, with an air of charming _naïveté_ and brotherly regard, almost rushed into my arms; but his presence restrained that general expression of frank opinion on the part of the rest of the company, with reference to my luck, with which the fortunate _fiancé_ is generally greeted. Still, the characters of my different so-called "friends," and their forms of congratulation, were amusing to watch. There was the patronising, rather elderly style--"My dear Vanecourt, I can't tell you how happy the news has made me. I was just saying to Broadhem,"--and so on; then the free and easy "Frank, old fellow" and "slap on the back" style; then the "knowing shot" and "poke in the ribs" style; then the "feelings too much for me" style--severe pressure of the hands, and silence, accompanied by upturned eyes; then the "serious change of state and heavy responsibilities" style. Oh, I know them all, and am thankful to say the peculiar versatility of my talents enabled me to give as many different answers as there are styles. I am not such a fool as not to know exactly what all my friends said of the match behind