“It might cost you dearly, Harry, for all that; he looks marvellously like a fellow that wouldn't brook trifling.” “He would n't call it trifling to lose me ten 'carlines,' and I 'm sure I should win my wager; so here goes at him in French.” Rising at the same moment, the young man crossed the room and stood before the table where Cashel sat, with folded arms and bent-down head, listening in utter indifference to all that passed. “Monsieur,” said the youth, bowing. Cashel looked up, and his dark, heavily browed eyes seemed to abash the other, who stood, blushing, and uncertain what to do. With faltering accents and downcast look he began to mutter excuses for his intrusion; when Cashel, in a mild and gentle voice, interrupted him, saying in English, “I am your countryman, young gentleman, and my age not six-and-twenty.” The quiet courtesy of his manner as he spoke, as well as the surprise of his being English, seemed to increase the youth's shame for the liberty he had taken, and he was profuse in his apologies; but Cashel soon allayed this anxiety by adroitly turning to another part of the subject, and saying, “If I look much older than I am, it is that I have travelled and lived a good deal in southern climates, not to speak of other causes, which give premature age.” A slight, a very slight touch of melancholy in the latter words gave them a deep interest to the youth, who, with a boyish frankness, far more fascinating than more finished courtesy, asked Roland if he would join their party. Had such a request been made half an hour before, or had it come in more formal fashion, Cashel would inevitably have declined it; but what between the generous candor of the youth's address, and a desire to show that he did not resent his intrusion, Cashel acceded good-naturedly, and took his seat amongst them. As Roland listened to the joyous freshness of their boyish talk,--the high-hearted hope, the sanguine trustfulness with which they regarded life,--he remembered what but a few years back he had himself been. He saw in them the selfsame elements which had led him on to every calamity that he suffered,--the passionate pursuit of pleasure, the inexhaustible craving for excitement that makes life the feverish paroxysm of a malady. They sat to a late hour together; and when they separated, the chance acquaintance had ripened into intimacy. Night after night they met in the same place; and while they were charmed with the gentle seriousness of one in whom they could recognize the most manly daring, he, on his side, was fascinated by the confiding warmth and the generous frankness of their youth.