debt of honour. I have told him I shall be here at the hour I have just named, and expect to receive the money."

"He will send an excuse," Brice said.

"No, he will not," Sir Randal rejoined. "He knows I will take no excuses. Were he to fail me, I would publicly proclaim him a defaulter, and then his reputation as a man of honour would be for ever blasted."

"Scoundrel!" ejaculated the listener, under his breath.

"My opinion therefore is, that the money will be forthcoming," Sir Randal continued. "Notwithstanding old Fairlie's protestations to the contrary, I am sure this small sum may be screwed out of him."

"Egad, I don't consider five hundred pounds a small sum," Brice remarked. "I wish to goodness I possessed as much. But I hope you won't proceed to extremities with Gage. Recollect how much you have got out of him-and how often you have feasted with him."

"I don't care," the young baronet rejoined. "I must be paid. Let me see," he added, again consulting his watch-"ten minutes

to two."

"By Jove! I begin to feel quite uneasy," Brice observed, rising. "I shall be off."

"Sit down," Sir Randal cried, authoritatively. "I want you to be present at the interview."

"Interview!" Brice exclaimed, reluctantly complying with the injunction. "Do you think he will come in person ?"

"Not a doubt of it."

"The best thing Gage can do to repair his fallen fortunes will be to marry a rich heiress," Beau Freke remarked.

"Where is he to find her?" Lord Melton laughed.

"Fairlie's daughter, if she would have him, would be the thing just now."

"Poh! poh! old Fairlie would not now consent to the matchmuch as he once desired it," Brice said.

"A truce to jesting on this subject, gentlemen, if you please," Sir Randal interposed. "Fairlie has promised me his daughter in marriage."

"You!" the beau ejaculated. "Why, he has given me a like promise."

"With the view of sowing discord between you," Brice said; "but don't let him succeed in his purpose. For my part, I wish Gage could win her. It would set him on his legs again."

"I tell you he has no chance," Sir Randal cried, impatiently. "Fairlie knows too well what he is about to wed her to such an irreclaimable spendthrift."

a

"Well, then, there is Lucy Poynings," Brice suggestedcharming girl-far prettier, to my fancy, than Clare Fairlie. If he

will promise to reform, and retire to the country, he may persuade. her to accept him."

"Pshaw, she has been long cured of her silly attachment to him," Sir Randal replied. "Gage and myself have often met her at Ranelagh, Marylebone Gardens, and other places, and she would not even look at him."

"Apropos of Clare and Lucy, do you remember how he drove off with them both in Sir Hugh Poynings's travelling carriage, after the masquerade at Bury?" Beau Freke observed.

the

"Ha! ha! ha!" Brice roared, "what a laugh we had at that droll adventure! It might have been no laughing matter, though, to Gage. Ten to one he had broken his neck when he upset the coach in galloping down that steep hill. It was lucky poor girls inside were uninjured. But they must have been confoundedly frightened, as well as terribly shaken. Do you recollect the woeful appearance they all presented when they were brought back to the Angel? The only lively one amongst them was little Lettice Rougham, and she had lost none of her spirit. It was an odd thing that her father should come up just in time to rescue them all from their peril, and get Gage from under the horses' feet, or most assuredly he would have had his brains dashed

out."

"Supposing him to have any, which may admit of a doubt," laughed Sir Randal.

"Well, I fancied that night's adventure had wrought a great change in his character," Brice continued. "For a few days, on his return to town, he seemed disposed to turn over a new leaf, and not to be over fond of our society. Things, however, soon came round, and he resumed his old habits."

"For that we have chiefly to thank Mr. Fairlie," Lord Melton remarked.

"Yes-because we were necessary to him," Beau Freke rejoined. "I shall never forget his alarm when, for a brief space, he really believed that Gage was about to reform. He thought his prize would be snatched from him. Mrs. Jenyns, who had been cast off, had to be reinstated without delay."

"That was to counteract a purer influence which had begun to tell upon the dupe," Brice said. "If Gage had been left alone for another week he would have married Lucy Poynings-that is, if she would have had him-and then he would have bidden adieu for ever to Mr. Fairlie, and to some other of his obliging friends." "Not so loud," Beau Freke said; "I fancy the person at that table, who appears to be a stranger here, is listening to us."

"Well, unless he is a friend of Monthermer's he can have heard nothing to interest him," Lord Melton laughed. "We have been talking of no one else."

More than once, the young man referred to had cast an angry glance at the speakers, and seemed about to interrupt their dis

course. But he now took up the newspaper again, and seemed occupied with it.

"It is two o'clock!" Sir Randal exclaimed. "He will not come."

"You are wrong, he is here," Brice Bunbury cried. "I wish I could vanish," he added to himself.

As the exclamations were uttered, Gage entered the room, and after returning the salutations of such of the company as greeted him, he passed on towards Sir Randal. His habiliments, though rich, were slightly disordered, and he looked more rakish than heretofore. His laced cravat was carelessly arranged, his peruke was dishevelled, and his features haggard and worn by debauchery; while, despite his efforts to conceal it, there was a visible embarrassment in his manner. As he approached the table at which his quondam friends were seated, Brice sprang forward to meet him, and pressed his hand with affected warmth. Beau Freke and Lord Melton were cordial enough in manner-but Sir Randal made no advance, and merely bowed stiffly.

"I knew you would be punctual, Monthermer," he said. "I told our friends so."

"I must beg you to accept my apology, Sir Randal," Gage replied. "I am extremely sorry to disappoint you, but Fairlie will not make the required advance. However, such a paltry sum can be of no consequence to you. I will pay you in a few days."

"You will pardon me, Mr. Monthermer," Sir Randal replied, "if I remind you of what I intimated in my letter, that this is a debt of honour, and must be repaid on pain of forfeiture of your character as a gentleman."

"Oh! yes, that is quite understood. I will pay it-I mean to pay it only give me a few days. I am a good deal harassed at this moment."

"Your perplexities are not likely to decrease, sir, and I cannot therefore grant you further delay."

"But 'sdeath! what am I to do, Sir Randal?" Gage cried. "How am I to raise the money?"

"Ay, that's just it-that's precisely what Lord Melton said," Brice interposed. "What the deuce is he to do to raise the money ?"

"You should have thought of this before," Sir Randal said.

"Will you lend me the amount for a few days, Freke?" Gage said to the beau, who, however, shook his head, and expressed his regrets at being compelled to decline. "Will you oblige me, my lord?" Monthermer added, appealing with equal ill-success to the sporting nobleman. "I suppose it is in vain to ask you?" he concluded, addressing Brice Bunbury.

"You shouldn't need to ask twice, if I had the money, Monthermer," Brice replied. "I'd lend it you with all the pleasure in life."

"Then I must positively throw myself upon your good nature to hold me excused for a few days longer, Sir Randal," Gage said to the young baronet. "You must take my word, as a gentleman, for the payment of the money."

"I will not take it," Sir Randal rejoined, insolently.

"How!" Gage exclaimed, starting, and involuntarily laying his hand upon his sword. his sword. "This is the first time I have been doubted. I must have satisfaction for this affront."

"Pay me the money, and I will give you satisfaction, Mr. Monthermer. But do not imagine I will cross swords with any man of tarnished honour-and such you will be held when once I proclaim you a defaulter."

"Tarnished honour!" Gage cried, in a voice of anguish. "Can such an opprobrious term be applied to me? Have I no friend left ? "

"Apparently not," said the young man described as seated at an adjoining table, and who, as he came forward, proved to be Arthur Poynings. "I will lend you the money you require," he added, placing a pocket-book in Gage's hands. "Pay this honourable gentleman," he cried, with scornful emphasis, and regarding Sir Randal with supreme contempt.

"I will not take the money thus offered," Sir Randal exclaimed. "By Heaven! you shall take it," Gage cried, opening the pocketbook, and forcing the bank-notes it contained upon the young baronet. "Count them, sir-count them in the presence of these gentlemen, for I will not trust your word. Huzza! my honour is saved. Arthur, I am for ever beholden to you."

"Gratitude is all your friend is likely to get, Monthermer, so it is well to be lavish of it," Sir Randal said. "Mr. Arthur Poynings, you will have an account to settle with me. It is not the first time we have met-but if you will afford me another opportunity, I promise you it shall be the last."

"I refuse your challenge, Sir Randal," Arthur said. "Refuse it, sir!"

"Ay, utterly refuse it-on the ground that you are a sharper— and as such I will everywhere denounce you."

Scarcely were these words out of Arthur's mouth, than Sir Randal's sword sprang from its sheath, and he would have attacked young Poynings if Gage had not seized him by the throat, and hurled him forcibly backwards.

In an instant the whole room was in confusion. All the rest of the company arose, and rushed to the scene of strife. Sir Randal was so furiously exasperated, that, fearful of mischief ensuing, Beau Freke and Lord Melton judged it prudent to get him away, and with difficulty succeeded in removing him. When order was at last restored, Gage looked about for Arthur, to renew his thanks to him for his opportune assistance, but the young man had disappeared.

VOL. XXXIX.

2 A

346

THE JOINT-STOCK BANKER.

A TALE OF THE DAY.

BY DUDLEY COSTELLO.

CHAPTER I.

THE MAN OF THE PEOPLE.

It was the middle of July; the summer was intensely hot; and AberPandy had gone mad!

Not, however, because of the Dog-star, now fast approaching its zenith, but on account of a local event which had no less influence than Sirius over the minds of the excitable inhabitants of the little Welsh borough just named.

An election was going to take place, and "The Man of the People" was about to be returned.

Ah! such a man! Not since the days of Howell Dha had there been one like him! If King Arthur himself-the enchanted royal raven-had returned to Cwmry, his presence at Aber-Pandy would not have caused one half the sensation!

And there were very good reasons why "The Man of the People" should be more welcome than the hero of romance.

King Arthur, in the simplicity of the age to which he belongedif ever he belonged to any-would once more have kept his court at Camelot, have again put faith in the fair and false Queen Guenever, have revived the Round Table, have held tournaments, have fought with Paynim Kings, and have flourished without ceasing "his good sword Escalàbar;" but for all this, and extravagantly as the good folks of AberPandy-when deep in their cups-might have extolled the heroic deeds of their mythic monarch, the question would have been asked, "What will King Arthur do for us? Will he double our wages in the pit and mine? Will he make house-rent cheaper? Will he increase the value of our cattle, and send our ponies, and pigs, and salmons, to a better market?” And if King Arthur could not conscientiously have promised any of these benefits, the townsmen of Aber-Pandy knew somebody who could;—at least, they thought they did, and that very often amounts to much the same thing.

For a people like the Welsh, credulous only in matters of legendary lore, quick in their suspicions, shrewd in their dealings, and not so heart-and-soul devoted to the goddess whose favourite abode is at the bottom of a well as, unnecessarily, to make themselves martyrs in her cause for such a people it was wonderful the amount of faith they put in the professions of the candidate for the representation of AberPandy.

It was true that he also was a native of the Principality, but their patriotism would hardly have been awakened in his favour if a belief in his enormous wealth had not been widely entertained. Who but a great