As he dealt the cards, a murmur ran through the bystanders that the stake was something considerable, and the interest increased in consequence. A few trifling bets were laid on the issue, and one of the group, in a voice slightly raised above the rest, said, “I'll back Sewell for a pony.” “I beg you will not, sir,” said Sewell, turning fiercely round. “I'm in bad luck already, and I don't want to be swamped altogether. There, sir, your interference has made me misdeal,” cried he, passionately, as he flung the cards on the table. Not a word was said as Cave began his deal. It was too plain to every one that Sewell's temper was becoming beyond control, and that a word or a look might bring the gravest consequences. “What cards!” said Cave, as he spread his hand on the table: “four honors and nine trumps.” Sewell stared at them, moved his fingers through them to separate and examine them, and then, turning his head round, he looked behind. It was his wife was standing at the back of his chair, calm, pale, and collected. “By Heaven!” cried he, savagely, “I knew who was there as well as if I saw her. The moment Cave spread out his cards, I 'd have taken my oath that _she_ was standing over me.” She moved hastily away at the ruffianly speech, and a low murmur of indignant anger filled the room. Cave and Houghton quitted the table, and mingled with the others; but Sewell sat still, tearing up the cards one by one, with a quiet, methodical persistence that betrayed no passion. “There!” said he, as he threw the last fragment from him, “you shall never bring good or bad luck to any one more.” With the ease of one to whom such paroxysms were not un-frequent, he joined in the conversation of a group of young men, and with a familiar jocularity soon set them at their ease towards him; and then, drawing his arm within Cave's, he led him apart, and said: “I 'll go over to the Barrack to-morrow and breakfast with you. I have just thought of how I can settle this little debt.” “Oh, don't distress yourself about that,” said Cave. “I beg you will not let it give you a moment's uneasiness.” “Good fellow!” said Sewell, clapping him on the shoulder; “but I have the means of doing it without inconvenience, as I 'll show you to-morrow. Don't go yet; don't let your fellows go. We are going to have a broil, or a devilled biscuit, or something.” He walked over and rang the bell, and then hastily passed on into a smaller room, where his wife was sitting on a sofa, an old doctor of the regiment seated at her side.