"I went to reside with my guardian. A man of a hospitable and liberal turn, his house was always full of guests, who were culled from the most agreeable circles in London. We lived in a perpetual round of amusement; and my uncle, who thought I should be rich enough to afford to be ignorant, was more anxious that I should divert my mind, than instruct it. Well, this year passed slowly and sadly away, despite of the gaiety around me; and, at the end of that time, I left my uncle to go to the university; but I first lingered in London to make inquiries after D----. I could learn no certain tidings of him, but heard that the most probable place to find him was a certain gaming-house in K---- Street. Thither I repaired forthwith. It was a haunt of no delicate and luxurious order of vice; the chain attached to the threshold indicated suspicion of the spies of justice; and a grim and sullen face peered jealously upon me before I was suffered to ascend the filthy and noisome staircase. But my search was destined to a brief end. At the head of the _Rouge et Noir_ table, facing my eyes the moment I entered the evil chamber, was the marked and working countenance of D----. "He did not look up--no, not once, all the time he played; he won largely--rose with a flushed face and trembling hand--descended the stairs--stopped in a room below, where a table was spread with meats and wine--took a large tumbler of Madeira, and left the house. I had waited patiently--I had followed him with a noiseless step--I now drew my breath hard, clenched my hands, as if to nerve myself for a contest--and as he paused a moment under one of the lamps, seemingly in doubt whither to go--I laid my hand on his shoulder, and uttered his name. His eyes wandered with a leaden and dull gaze over my face before he remembered me. _Then_ he recovered his usual bland smile and soft tone. He grasped my unwilling hand, and inquired with the tenderness of a parent after my health. I did not heed his words. 'Your daughter,' said I, convulsively. "'Ah! you were old friends,' quoth he, smiling; 'you have recovered that folly, I hope. Poor thing! she will be happy to see an old friend. You know of course-- "'What?' for he hesitated. "'That Lucy is married!'