‘I’ve seen him, too!’ and the youth swallowed another glass, for his heart throbbed violently. ‘The girl is beauty personified—accomplished—lovely as a seraph—eyes of the—the—’ ‘The blackest jet, of course.’ ‘Well, I’m not so certain of that.—But they are—’ ‘Oh, deuce take the description, now to the point.’ ‘Well, Monteagle, she loves you, loves you to distraction.’ Monteagle started to his feet. ‘Sit down, friend of mine, and let us finish this bottle.’ ‘Certainly. But who told you this?—My God! who told you that she loves me?’ ‘Her own eyes ought to have told you that long ago.’ ‘Her own eyes!’ ‘Yes, ha! ha! ha!’ roared Blodget, ‘why, man alive, did you never hear of the tell-tale eyes which reveal what passes in the heart?’ ‘But who told you?’ ‘It is a secret, you know; you will not betray me.’ ‘Honor bright, of course.’ ‘I’ll trust you. Brown told me.’ ‘What Mr. Brown, our partner?’ ‘Yes, indeed.’ ‘But how could Mr. Brown know anything of this affair, eh! You astonish me.’ ‘Not at all; easy enough. Vandewater told the doctor, and the doctor told Brown; so now I have betrayed all the three. You see it is authentic. The girl has confessed her love to Vandewater himself.’ ‘To Vandewater?’ ‘Yes, why not?’ ‘She must be in earnest, then. She loves me beyond a doubt.’ ‘She has loved you many months, now Monteagle is a chance—’ ‘She loved me many months! But—’ ‘Fact, sir, fact? She confessed it to Vandewater, who tried to persuade her to conquer her passion.’ The youth started to his feet. ‘I’m much obliged to him. _He_ try to—_he_ interfere in a case of this kind.—But that exceeds his authority.’ ‘Tut! tut! work your cards right and the girl is yours, and then Vandewater’s fortune, you know—’ ‘What have I to do with Vandewater’s fortune?’ cried the youth surprised. ‘What has _she_ to do with his fortune? what is hers is yours, you know, if you come together.’ Monteagle looked mystified. ‘You know,’ continued Blodget, ‘that Julia is—’ ‘Julia?’ ‘Yes, Mr. Vandewater’s niece—’ ‘What have you been talking about?’ cried Monteagle. ‘She loves you! Fact! Don’t stare at me so incredulously. See, my boy—’ clapping him on the shoulder—‘the game’s in your own hands if you only play your cards right.’ Monteagle sank back in his chair looking listlessly upon his half-emptied glass, while Blodget went on for a considerable time descanting on the merits of Julia Vandewater, and the brilliant prospects that would open upon Monteagle if he married her. ‘No matter,’ said our youth, carelessly. ‘That doctor must be a regular gossip, and deserves to be called out for publishing family secrets with which he has been entrusted.’