'My lord,' said I, 'are you quite, quite certain that you have lost them?' 'See yourself,' cried he, lifting his lip. 'They are gone, gone for ever!' 'They are indeed,' said I. 'And now you may be gone too.' 'Ha! what mean you?' cried he. 'My lord,' said I, 'of this you must be conscious, that a complete set of teeth are absolutely indispensible to a hero.' 'Well?' cried he, starting. 'Well,' said I, 'having lost two of your's, you must be conscious that you are no longer a hero.' 'You stretch my heart-strings!' cried he. 'Speak! what hideous whim is this?' 'No whim, my lord,' answered I; 'but principle, and founded on law heroic; founded on that law, which rejects as heroes, the maimed, the blind, the deformed, and the crippled. Trust me, my good lord, teeth are just as necessary in the formation of a hero as a comb.' 'By Heaven!' cried he; 'I can get other teeth at a dentist's; a composition of paste that would amaze you. I can by all that is just.' 'That you may, my lord,' said I, 'and be happy with them; for never can you be happy with me.' 'I am wilder than madness itself!' cried he; 'I am more desperate than despair! I will fly to the ends of the earth, hide in a cavern, and throw my ideas into a sonnet. On a fine summer's evening, when you walk towards the mountains, sometimes think of me.' 'Never as a lover, my lord,' said I: 'so put that out of your head at once. Oh! it shocks me to think I should ever have received you as one!' He began a tremendous imprecation; but was interrupted by the sudden arrival of a gentleman on horseback with a servant after him. The gentleman stopped, alighted, approached. 'Mr. Betterton!' cried I; 'can it be possible?' 'Nothing is impossible,' said he, with his obsequious bow and confirmed smile, 'when the charming Cherubina prompts our efforts. You remember you left me in a ridiculous dilemma, which your friend Stuart contrived;--masterpiece of ingenuity, faith, and for which I freely forgive him: he's an excellent young fellow; excellent, 'pon my soul; and I have made my friends so merry with an account of that affair. Well, I remained in limbo till the sessions, when none appearing to prosecute, the judge discharged me; so the first use I made of my liberty was to visit Lady Gwyn, who told me that I should find you here; here therefore I am to pay you my devoirs.' I thanked him, and then bade Jerry run towards the village, and hurry my vassals; as the castle lost much of its pomp without them. Jerry went: my visitors recognized each other; and already their hostile feelings and opposite interests had began to manifest themselves, when, to my great surprise, three men turned short round the western tower, and stood before me. 'That is she!' cried one of them. I looked at the speaker, and recognized in him the postilion who had brought down the barouche. 'Your name is Cherry Wilkinson,' said another of them to me. 'Sir,' said I, haughtily: 'my name is Lady Cherubina de Willoughby.'