The day after that grand wedding at St. George’s, Hanover Square, Mrs. Dibble told Chrissy that her husband would be coming to pay her a visit in a week or two, and Chrissy knew that it was necessary she should leave Mrs. Dibble before that period: so she had talked of change of air, and Paul, given over to the reckless passion of his first love!--(Heaven save the mark!)--had resolved upon a quiet private wedding at Brighton that day week. The Lieutenant was just explaining his views when there came a loud knocking at the front door, and after considerable bustle and confusion in the little narrow passage, Mrs. Dibble burst into the room with her husband. “Lor, Mithter Thomerton, Leftennant, thir, Thomath thaith he mutht shake hands with you, and he hath come before hith time, becauth it wath more convenient, and I’m sure you will excuthe him, when you think of old times and----” “Of course, of course,” said Paul, wishing old Dibble at Hanover; “and how are you, Thomas? how do you do?” Dibble made no reply, but allowed his hand to be shaken in the most condescending fashion, whilst he fixed his eyes upon the young lady. “Why, deary me!” he exclaimed, all of a sudden, “Miss Christabel, how do you do? Well, who would ha’ thought as I should find you at Mrs. Dibble’s?” The lady addressed looked at Mr. Dibble with the greatest possible astonishment, and then turned to Lieutenant Somerton, as if she sought some explanation of this extraordinary conduct. “Daughter of the Northern magician, you know,” said Dibble, addressing the Lieutenant; “the cleverest young lady as ever I see. Lor’ bless you, I----” “What the devil do you mean!” exclaimed the Lieutenant. “Surely the man is not sober,” said the young lady in her finest style, and with just a faint smile at Dibble’s bewildered look. “It hain’t the voice quite,” said Dibble; “but it be Chrissy, you know; she was the mysterious lady and----” “And what?” exclaimed the Lieutenant. Before Dibble had time to answer he caught “Chrissy’s” eye and its sudden expression of warning, such as that which he remembered coupled with her threats about the pistol; so he only stammered out something about being mistaken, and begging pardon---- “You’re alwayth making thome mithtake or other,” said Mrs. Dibble; “there, come along in the next room. I’m thorry I allowed him to come in, Mithter Thomerton, but hith headth bewildered, no doubt, with having been away from home tho much and having previouthly had my eye on him: and what he would do without ith a mythtery to me.” The Lieutenant said, “All right, Mrs. Dibble, don’t apologise,” and poor Dibble slunk away into the kitchen and sat down, Mrs. D. following. “There, Thomath, never mind,” said Mrs. Dibble in her blandest tones; “come and tell me all about it.”