“The man looked perfectly astounded as he moved away, and my thoughts were soon engrossed by the proceedings near me. The rattle of knives, and the jingling of plates and glasses went on very briskly for some time, accompanied by various pleasant observations of my guests, for such I judged them, from the mirth which ever followed them. At last I thought I heard my name, or at least what they pleased to use as its substitute, mentioned; I strained my ears to listen, and learnt that they were planning to talk over the pretended intention to run for Cowes, and see the regatta. This they discussed then, for about twenty minutes, in a very loud voice, purposely to see its effects upon me; but as I was now aware of the trick, I gave no sign of any intelligence. “‘Poor Dirk,’ said Grantham; ‘I believe by this time he cares very little which way her head lies; but here comes something better than all our discussions. Lady Agnes, sit here—Miss Pelham, here’s a dry cushion for you—did you say a wing, Lady Mary?’ “Now began the crash and clatter of dinner; champagne corks popping, glasses ringing, and all that peculiar admixture of fracas and fun, which accompanies a scrambled meal. How they did laugh, and eat, ay, and drink too. G’s punch seemed to have its success, for sick as I was, I could perceive the voices of the men grow gradually louder, and discovered that two gentlemen who had been remarkably timid in the morning, and scarcely opened their lips, were now rather uproariously given, and one even proposed to sing. “If any man, thought I, were to look for an instant at the little scene now enacting here, what a moral might he reap from it; talk of the base ingratitude of the world, you cannot say too much of it. Who would suppose that it was my boat these people were assembled in; that it was my champagne these people were drinking; that my venison and my pheasants were feeding those lips, which rarely spoke, except to raise a jest at my expense. My chagrin increased my sickness and my sickness redoubled my chagrin. “‘Mr. Brail,’ said I, in a low whisper, ‘Mr. Brail.’ “‘Did you speak, sir?’ said he, with about as much surprise in his manner, as though he had been addressed by a corpse. “‘Mr. Brail,’ said I, ‘is there any danger here?’ “‘Lord love you, no, sir, she’s walking Spanish, and the sea going down; we shall have lovely weather, and they’re all enjoying it, sir,—the ladies.’ “‘So I perceive,’ said I, with a groan; ‘so I perceive; but Mr. Brail, could you do nothing—just to—to startle them a little, I mean for fun only? Just ship a heavy sea or two, I don’t care for a little damage, Mr. Brail, and if it were to wash over the dinner-service, and all the wine, I should not like it worse.’ “‘Why, sir, you are getting quite funny, the sickness is going.’