"I really think she does," said Glentworth, drily; "but not in consequence of her likeness to Lady Anne, of whom the less we say the better."
"Bah! bah! we must not be severe; she leave me one hundred of pounds for my horse, and, what is better, I him get again; so I forgive, in my heart, all the peccadilloes."
"I am glad of that; how did you get him again?"
"I go with the bill in my hand, and say, 'Will you take this for my Hector?' and he say, 'Yes, with all of his heart!'"
"I dare say he spoke the truth; he rode the poor beast six months, pulled him down woefully, and sold him for thirty pounds profit. My dear Count, I give you credit for many things, but not for making a bargain."
The Count shrugged, hummed a few bars of a favourite arietta, and went off, perfectly happy, thinking only, "he did not cheat me, I cheat myself. The best thing of the two, moche. I shall soon forgive myself, I dare to say; but I might be long time in forgive him."
A wedding may be very pleasant to visitors, but it can rarely be called a happy, much less a gay day, to those immediately concerned; for either a
