“Oh! here's old Clangoff come to try his luck:” and an opening of the crowd was now made to permit a tall and very old man to approach the table. Very much stooped in the shoulders, and with snow-white hair, Lord Clangoff still preserved the remains of one who in his youth had been the handsomest man of his day. Although simply dressed in the Windsor uniform, the brilliant rings he wore upon his fingers, and the splendour of a gold snuff-box surrounded by enormous diamonds, evinced the taste for magnificence for which he was celebrated. There was an air of dignity with which he took his seat, saluting the acquaintances he recognised about him, very strikingly in contrast with the familiar manners then growing into vogue, while in the courteous urbanity of his bow to Talbot, his whole breeding was revealed. “It is a proud thing even to encounter such an adversary, sir,” said he, smiling. “They have just told me that you have vanquished our best players.” “The caprice of Fortune, my lord, that so often favours the undeserving,” said Talbot, with a gesture of extreme humility. “Your success should be small at play, if the French adage have any truth in it,” said his lordship, alluding to Talbot's handsome features, which seemed to indicate favour with the softer sex. “According to that theory, my lord, I have the advantage over you at present.” This adroit flattery of the other's earlier reputation as a gallant, seemed to please him highly; for, as he presented his box to one of his friends near, he whispered--“A very well-bred fellow, indeed,” Then turning to Talbot, said, “Do you like a high stake?” “I am completely at your service, my lord--whatever you please.” “Shall we say fifty?--or do you prefer a hundred?” “If the same to you, I like the latter just twice as well.” The old lord smiled at having found an adversary similarly disposed with himself, and drew out his pocket-book with an air of palpable satisfaction; while in the looks of increased interest among the bystanders could be seen the anxiety they felt in the coming struggle. “You have the deal, my lord,” said Talbot, presenting the cards. “Still, if any gentleman cares for another fifty on the game----” “I'll take it, sir,” said a voice from behind Lord Clangoff s chair, and Mark, struck by the accent, fixed his eyes on the speaker. The blood rushed to his face at once, for it was Hemsworth who stood before him--the ancient enemy of his house--the tyrant, whose petty oppressions and studied insults had been a theme he was familiar with from boyhood. All fear of his being recognised himself was merged in the savage pleasure he felt in staring fixedly at the man he hated.