The Captain and L'Estrange, who assumed the name of Count Czinsky, were fain to leave for St. Petersburgh, not however before the former wrung a promise from the wounded man he would never mention the fact of his meeting L'Estrange again, should he survive and return home. At St. Petersburgh our duo kept up the greatest style, and created quite a sensation amongst the fair Russian ladies. One day L'Estrange opened an English newspaper, in which was a full account of the Earl's marriage. "She is married," he cried, "she is married!" dropping the paper from his hands. "Of course you didn't think the Earl was fool enough to wait till you played the part of young Lochinvar again, and ran off with his Ellen. Why, Ned, you are a greater fool than I took you for! Egad, it sits sore does it, Ned? Take my advice and snap your fingers at a girl who won't take you.--I'll read the account for you--give me the paper, old Spooniana! Why, pest, after all it is as bad for me as you. I lose my coronet--and you your lady love!" so saying he took the papers and read the article aloud, laughing--then tossed it to L'Estrange again. The latter began to read over the sad paragraph, with that earnestness with which we often read again and again what is the most painful to our feelings. At last he cried out, "Here's something for you--let's see how you bear ill news, who are so ready to read them to others." "Read away, read away--it's not a little will make my face as long as yours is, Ned! Why, God a' mercy, you look as if you were going to be hung; fire away with your evil reports!" "'After the departure of the noble Earl and his lovely partner,' (oh! that I should read it)," read L'Estrange--"'the Marquis of Arranmore kept open house at the Castle, and was to end the festivities of the week by a grand flare up, which festive event was suddenly prevented by a melancholy and fatal accident, by which the young and elegant Marchioness lost her life.'" "Heavens!" muttered the Captain. "'It may be remembered that only a year ago this lady, eldest sister of the Earl of Wentworth, was married to the noble Marquis--'" "Read ahead!" cried the Captain. "'A few moments before the ball commenced the attention of the Marquis and Mr. Lennox, then staying at the Towers, was drawn to the lady's room by screams of a most harrowing nature, and the unhappy young lady appeared enveloped in flames, which were, however, speedily extinguished, but not before the unfortunate Marchioness had sustained such injuries as proved fatal. A short time before midnight death ended her sufferings.'" "Egad, that was a _flare up_! The Marquis never dreamed of that, I'll warrant!" said the heartless man. "De Vere," said L'Estrange, horrified at this unfeeling jest, "your cold-blooded ferocity makes my blood curdle. What have you come to when you joke on your sister's lamentable death?"