occasions we would ask Cranley of the Home Circuit, O'Byrne of the Advertiser, and one or two other fellow-Templars, to drop in; and then we always wound up the proceedings with an oyster or lobster banquet from Prosser's. We always gave out that Mrs. Talboys was the wife of Captain Talboys (impliedly of the Royal Navy), now at sea; concerning whose health and prosperity, by-the-bye, O'Byrne invariably made well-meant but most awkward inquiries of Mrs. Talboys whenever he met her.
This sort of thing went on for about twelve months. The more I saw of little Emmie Talboys, the more desperately I loved her. I don't think I ever hinted to the little woman in the most remote manner at the existence of this attachment, but I cannot suppose she was ignorant of it. In point of fact I am sure it was marked by Mrs. Talboys, and I am equally sure that she placed no impediment in the way of our being together. I had almost made up my mind to speak openly to Emmie, when an event occurred which upset all my plans.
One morning (it was in the January twelve-month after our first meeting with the Talboys) Maxwell and I returned to London after a fortnight's absence in Liverpool, where we had been to superintend the production of a Christmas piece. Among the letters that awaited us was one addressed to Maxwell from Mrs. Talboys, with a date a week old. He opened it, read it, and handed it to me. It was to the following effect:—
Essex Street, 30th Dec., 1859.
"My dear Mr. Maxwell,—I have grievous news to
