THE SPENDTHRIFT.

A TALE OF THE LAST CENTURY.*

BY W. HARRISON AINSWORTH, Esq.

XXIII.

WHAT HAPPENED DURING SUPPER.

Two ladies were seated in the ante-chamber when Monthermer entered it with the page. One of these was the charming Spanish señora he expected to find there: the other might be taken, from her dress, for a young Venetian dame of the sixteenth century. She was attired in a robe of rich dark velvet, and looked like a portrait by Tintoretto. Both were closely masked. As Monthermer approached, they rose, and courteously returned his salutation. Gage turned first to the señora.

"I have been thoroughly mystified this evening," he said, "and find that a masked ball has its inconveniences as well as its pleasures. Hitherto, ill-luck has attended me. You must have remarked that another lady has adopted a Spanish costume precisely similar to your own. I have been dancing with her for the last half hour, under the impression that my partner was Miss Poynings."

"Very flattering to Miss Poynings. But how do you know you are right now?" the señora replied.

"I can scarcely be deceived a second time," Gage said; "and though I cannot pretend to peer through a mask, something assures me that I am very familiar with your features, as well as with those of your companion."

"Indeed. Whom do you suppose this lady to be ?" "An old friend."

"Nay, you must name her."

"Well then, I should not be far from the mark, I imagine, if I were to call her Clare Fairlie."

Here the two ladies began to laugh, and the page joined heartily in their merriment.

"You display great discernment, I must say," the Venetian remarked, in a tone of slight pique. "I did not think you would find me out so soon."

"You are both so perfectly disguised that a conjuror would be puzzled to detect you," Gage replied. "Besides, you speak in so low a tone, that there is no judging by the voice."

*The Author of this Tale reserves the right of translation.

"The curtain of the mask alters the sound," the señora said. "So much so that your accents seem to resemble those of Clare Fairlie," Gage observed.

"Mine!" the Venetian exclaimed.

"Egad! your voice is like Lucy's. Well, I suppose it must be mere imagination. But why should we remain here? Supper will be served shortly. Let me have the pleasure of conducting you to it." So saying, he offered an arm to each of the ladies, and led them into the ball-room.

But he was soon robbed of one of his charges. Scarcely had they joined the motley throng when the hidalgo came up, and whispering a few words to the señora, carried her off. No time was allowed for explanation, for at that moment the doors of the supper-room were thrown open, and the eager crowd rushed in to the long-expected repast. Every seat at the magnificently-furnished table, except a few at the upper end, reserved for the giver of the revel and his particular friends, was instantly filled, and a general assault made upon the tempting viands. Leading his partner to a reserved seat, Gage pressed her to take some refreshment-but she declined, alleging unwillingness to unmask. While glancing down either side of the board at the long array of his fancifully-attired guests, and speculating as to who they all were, Monthermer discovered, as he supposed, the hidalgo and the señora seated at the lower end of the table, and he would have sent to beg them to come up to him, but at this juncture, Mr. Fairlie made his appearance-evidently much disturbed. Almost rudely addressing Gage's partner, the steward desired her to unmask. The lady drew back, positively refusing compliance. "Hold, Fairlie, this must not be," Gage interposed.

"Your pardon, sir," the steward rejoined. "I wish to be satisfied that this is my daughter."

"Take my assurance that she is so," Gage said.

"I have reason to think you are mistaken," Fairlie cried. "I have just ascertained from the female attendants in the antechamber that the two ladies have changed dresses."

"There is no use for further concealment," Lucy said, removing her mask.

"Miss Poynings!" Gage exclaimed. "I am doomed to be a dupe."

"But where is my daughter all this while?" Fairlie demanded. "You will easily discern her if you will take the trouble to look down the table," Gage answered.

"That is not Clare," Fairlie said, glancing in the direction Gage pointed; and he added, with some significance, "that is the lady you danced with, and afterwards took to the card-room."

"Ah! indeed, and the hidalgo next her I presume is"Not my brother Arthur, I hope?" Lucy cried.

"No, it is Sir Randal de Meschines," Fairlie replied. "The

other couple-that is, my daughter and Mr. Arthur Poyningshave disappeared."

"You don't say so, Fairlie," Gage exclaimed, unable to refrain from laughing. "Well, don't make yourself uneasy. I dare say they will turn up presently. Sit down to supper with us."

Pray excuse me, sir. I must go in quest of Clare."

"Why, you don't surely suppose that Arthur has run away with her?" Monthermer cried, with renewed laughter. "That would be a jest indeed."

"I don't know what to think, sir. Perhaps Miss Poynings can give me some information on the subject?"

"If she can, depend upon it she won't, so you may spare yourself the trouble of questioning her," Gage returned.

"So I perceive, sir. Suffer me to retire, and pursue my inquiries elsewhere."

"As you will, Fairlie. But I advise you to take the matter easily. I have as much reason to be annoyed as you, and yet I do not disquiet myself." And as the steward departed, he turned to Lucy, and said, "To what am I to attribute the pleasure of your company this evening, Miss Poynings?-Mere curiosity to see a masked ball?”

"Not entirely," she replied. "I had mixed motives for coming. I shall be blamed by all-even by you-for the bold step I have taken, but if I am able to serve you I shall not care." "To serve me-in what way ?"

"By opening your eyes to your danger." Gage regarded her with a smile.

Ι

"Clare Fairlie, I see, has been prompting you," he said. “A propos of Clare-what has become of her? Perhaps you will tell me, though you would not inform her father."

"I have reason to believe she is gone," Lucy replied, with some hesitation.

"Gone!" Gage cried, much startled. "How am I to understand you?"

"Do not question me further. I have already told you more than I ought to have done."

"If it be as I suspect, I shall be much grieved," Gage returned, in a serious tone. "It is a rash step-and she will repent it." "She is not happy with her father."

"Why not? He is dotingly fond of her."

"That may be-but-I cannot explain now. Oh! Gage, how can you place confidence in such a person as Fairlie ?"

"Because I have ever found him trustworthy. But let us choose some more lively topic."

"This scene does not inspire me with lively thoughts, Gage. On the contrary, it depresses me. Is it possible such entertainment can afford you pleasure? Look round the room-listen to the sounds that assail our ears. Are these guests worthy of the

splendid banquet you have spread before them? Few, if any of them, have real friendship for you; while there are some amongst them who seek your ruin-ay, and will accomplish it, if you continue blind to their arts."

"I am a bad listener to sermons, Lucy, and you have chosen a strange season for yours."

66

"I have taken advantage of the only opportunity likely to occur to me of offering you counsel, which I feel must prove distasteful, but which friendship would not allow me to withhold.-I have now done, and must beg you to take me to the ante-chamber, where my brother will speedily join me, if he be not there already." "Nay, I cannot part with you thus, Lucy. Remain with me a few minutes longer. I would rather be chided by you than praised by almost any one else. If you will but adopt the right means, you may bring about my reformation."

Lucy shook her head.

"How must I begin the good work?" Gage asked. "Abandon this society altogether."

"Rather a difficult commencement. "You must give up play."

What next?"

"But how am I to exist without it? I have no other excitement. If I were to make the attempt I fear I should fail. You must aid me."

"I must first see some symptoms of amendment. But I can bear this riotous scene no longer. The noise stuns me. Pray conduct me to my brother."

By this time, the champagne and other wines, quaffed in flowing bumpers, had begun to do their duty, and set loose the tongues of the guests. Great was the clamour-loud the laughter that ensued. No wonder Lucy was anxious to escape from such a scene of uproar and confusion. But at the very moment she had prevailed upon Gage to lend her his escort to the ante-chamber, Beau Freke, who personated an Ottoman prince, and was very gorgeously arrayed, rose, and enjoining silence on the noisy revellers, proposed their host's health. It is needless to say how the toast was received-nor that it was drunk with frantic enthusiasm. After the tumultuous applause had subsided, Gage was about to return thanks for the honour done him, when the attention of the whole assemblage was turned to the door of the supperroom, where a struggle was taking place between the lacqueys there stationed and two persons who were bent upon obtaining forcible admission. After a while the strenuous efforts of the intruders prevailed, and Sir Hugh Poynings and Parson Chedworth burst into the room. Amid a storm of oaths and incoherent ejaculations, Sir Hugh made it understood that he was in search of his daughter. His appearance as well as that of the parson occasioned general merriment, and the shouts of derisive laughter with which both were greeted did not tend to allay the old baro

net's displeasure. Sir Hugh was without coat, cravat, or wig, and had an exceedingly tall nightcap on his head. Mr. Briscoe followed close at his heels, vainly endeavouring to restrain him. "Where are you, Loo?—where are you?" he roared. "Why don't you show your face, hussy?"

"Moderate yourself, Sir Hugh, I implore of you," the landlord cried. "You'll frighten all the ladies out of their senses."

"Find my daughter for me without delay, Briscoe-or by Heavens!

"There she sits, Sir Hugh," the host replied, pointing to the señora.

"What! in that black dress, all bedizened with lace? Are you sure, Briscoe? Don't deceive me, or I'll make minced-meat of you."

I am quite sure, your worship."

Whereupon the old baronet seized the luckless señora's hand, and dragged her, notwithstanding her cries and resistance, out of her chair.

"Pretty doings!" he cried. "Come to your mother, Loo. How dared you attend this ball without leave? But shall answer for your conduct by-and-by."

you

"Will nobody free me from this tipsy old fool, and turn him out of the room?" the señora cried. "You deserve horse whipping for your rudeness, sir, and should be horsewhipped if I were a I thank my stars I am no daughter of yours.'

man.

"Let's see your face then, since you disown me," the old baronet rejoined.

And, as he spoke, he plucked off her mask, and disclosed the pretty features of Mrs. Jenyns.

"Whew!" he ejaculated; "a charming face, i' faith, but certainly not Loo's. Madam, I must apologise for my violence." Meanwhile, as may be supposed, the real delinquent had watched her father's proceedings with no little dismay.

"How shall I escape without attracting his observation?" she said to Gage. "Oh! if I could only regain my own room."

"I'll manage it," the young man replied. "Come with me." And taking her under his arm he made his way towards the door, keeping on the other side of the table.

They might have got off without notice, if Mrs. Jenyns had not called the old baronet's attention to them.

"Look there," she said, maliciously.

"Ay, there she goes," Sir Hugh roared; "that's swear to her. Stop! stop! I say."

my Loo-I'll

But the more he shouted, the less the fugitives seemed inclined to obey. Quickening their steps, they presently gained the door, and disappeared long before Sir Hugh could reach it, his progress being barred by the servants, while Briscoe helped to pull back Parson Chedworth.