But my lady rose and said, “I have told Mr. Deuceace, that I never wished to see him, or speak to him, more. I see no reason, now, to change my opinion.” And herewith she sailed out of the room, by the door through which Kicksey had carried poor Mrs. Deuceace. “Well, well,” says my lord, as Lady Crabs swept by, “I was in hopes she had forgiven you; but I know the whole story, and I must confess you used her cruelly ill. Two strings to your bow!--that was your game, was it, you rogue?” “Do you mean, my lord, that you know all that past between me and Lady Grif--Lady Crabs, before our quarrel?” “Perfectly--you made love to her, and she was almost in love with you; you jilted her for money, she got a man to shoot your hand off in revenge: no more dice-boxes, now, Deuceace; no more sauter la coupe. I can't think how the deuce you will manage to live without them.” “Your lordship is very kind; but I have given up play altogether,” says Deuceace, looking mighty black and uneasy. “Oh, indeed! Benedick has turned a moral man, has he? This is better and better. Are you thinking of going into the church, Deuceace?” “My lord, may I ask you to be a little more serious?” “Serious! a quoi bon? I am serious--serious in my surprise that, when you might have had either of these women, you should have preferred that hideous wife of yours.” “May I ask you, in turn, how you came to be so little squeamish about a wife, as to choose a woman who had just been making love to your own son?” says Deuceace, growing fierce. “How can you ask such a question? I owe forty thousand pounds--there is an execution at Sizes Hall--every acre I have is in the hands of my creditors; and that's why I married her. Do you think there was any love? Lady Crabs is a dev'lish fine woman, but she's not a fool--she married me for my coronet, and I married her for her money.” “Well, my lord, you need not ask me, I think, why I married the daughter-in-law.” “Yes, but I DO, my dear boy. How the deuce are you to live? Dawkins's five thousand pounds won't last forever; and afterwards?” “You don't mean, my lord--you don't--I mean, you can't-- D---!” says he, starting up, and losing all patience, “you don't dare to say that Miss Griffin had not a fortune of ten thousand a year?” My lord was rolling up, and wetting betwigst his lips, another segar; he lookt up, after he had lighted it, and said quietly-- “Certainly, Miss Griffin had a fortune of ten thousand a year.” “Well, sir, and has she not got it now? Has she spent it in a week?” “SHE HAS NOT GOT A SIX-PENCE NOW: SHE MARRIED WITHOUT HER MOTHER'S CONSENT!” Deuceace sunk down in a chair; and I never see such a dreadful picture of despair as there was in the face of that retchid man!--he writhed, and nasht his teeth, he tore open his coat, and wriggled madly the stump of his left hand, until, fairly beat, he threw it over his livid pale face, and sinking backwards, fairly wept alowd.