driven your wife to do what she has done; and though we must ostracise her, we decline at the same time to have anything more to say to you." It has been weary work to listen to all the old lies, to pretend to be deceived by all the old cajolery, to look on or take part in so-called pleasure, with which one has been surfeited at five-and-twenty; but it has all worked out well, and the end--or I am very much mistaken--will justify the means. Now I will dress myself and prepare for my visitor!' At twelve o'clock Lord Forestfield was announced, and entered the room, looking worn and ill. The seared strained appearance round the eyes was more marked, and he had lost the self-command which was so conspicuous on the previous evening. From time to time he kept moistening his lips, and there was an involuntary fluttering motion of his hands which he in vain endeavoured to suppress. He fell into a chair, and at once lay back, covering his face with his hands, apparently oblivious of where he was; then, rousing himself with a start, he leant forward, and in an odd abrupt way, totally different from his usual manner, he said: 'Well, Uffington, I'm here as I said I would be. This is a d--d pretty business! You didn't think I'd come, I suppose, eh?' 'Because I didn't ask you for any farther acknowledgment than that which I hold, and which only represents half your debt, is that the reason?' asked Uffington. 'O no, Lord Forestfield, I was sure you would come this morning.' 'How could you be sure'? I suppose you mean that you've heard I always keep my word, and pay my debts, and that kind of thing--is that it?' 'Not exactly. I knew--I felt--you would come; how or why I could hardly explain; and no explanation is necessary since you are here.' 'Yes, that's all devilish fine!' said Lord Forestfield, rising from his chair and pacing the room. 'I heard fellows say you're a fatalist--believe that what will be, will be; and that sort of thing. I suppose you felt certain beforehand that you would win those conquering games?' 'I had an inward conviction that I should obtain what I wanted,' said Uffington quietly. 'What you wanted?' cried Forestfield coarsely. 'What you wanted was my money I presume? Mine or some one else's--it didn't matter much. However, the result of all this fatalism is that I owe you ten thousand pounds, Sir Nugent Uffington.' 'Exactly,' said Uffington, with a cold smile. 'And that being the result, Lord Forestfield, you can scarcely wonder that I am a fatalist.' 'Suppose I were to say that I could not pay you--for the present, at all events,' said Forestfield--'what would you say to that?'