"Mr. Beverley," said he, bowing, "when Devenham, Slingsby, and I

meet at table, it is our invariable custom to drink to one whom we

all--hum--"

"Admire!" said the Viscount, rising.

"Adore!" said the Captain, rising also.

"Therefore, gentlemen," pursued the Marquis, "with our host's

permission, we will--"

"Stay a moment, Jerningham," said the Viscount,--"it is only right

to tell you that my friend Beverley is one with us in this,--he also

is a suitor for the hand of Lady Cleone."

"Is he, b'gad!" exclaimed the Captain. "Dooce take me!" said the

Marquis, "might have known it though. Ah, well! one more or less

makes small difference among so many."

So Barnabas rose, and lifting his glass with the others, drank to-"Our Lady Cleone--God bless her!"




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