I grant you, this is all rattle (that is the manner not the matter, upon my honor), and poor forced rattle too; but I must be mad, for I cannot be merry, nor yet serious. My gadding spirits are whirling this enterprise round and round without ceasing. Sometimes tossing the dark side toward me; and then, ere I can make one retracting reflection, smilingly presenting to me its advantages.—At that still time of night (if my plan fail not) when graves yield up the semblance of their dead, my courtship is to begin.—Once begun, it must go on; and the second setting sun beholds me a bridegroom.—Close your door, Boyer; stir up your fire; and I'll tell you.——Not now though, for—enter Griffiths.

'The gentlemen have walked out to the grounds, my lord. Mrs. Valmont and Lady Monkton are alone.'

'Right Griffiths, I understand your hint.'

'My Lord, it will certainly take,' returning shrugging his shoulders and laughing. 'The butler hates squire Valmont, and enjoys the thought of playing him such a trick. The lads will have to strip and turn out to-morrow, I doubt not, for this day's frolic.'

'Then, I must provide for them! 'Tis our frolic, and not theirs, Griffiths. 'Should our plain fail——'

'It cannot fail, my lord,'

'Well, well—go—mind you give me more water than wine at dinner.'

And now, I steal from a back door, make a circuit round the house, and crossing the lawn join the dear good kind informing souls in the drawing room.——You shall hear from me again presently, Walter.

I am gone, in reputation I mean, to seek the earl, the baronet, and the simple squire, but, in propria persona, returned to my chamber to tell you a story—a story of stories. The ladies were in the very heart of it when I entered. Luckily, I had waited a sentence or two outside the door, or I should have had no clue to bespeak a continuance of the subject. Mrs. Valmont was suspicious of me, but having persuaded her than I am a sober sort of youth, not at all given to hard-heartedness and infidelity, she proceeded, and I had the good fortune to listen with wondering eyes and gaping mouth to the particular account of how, where, and when, Miss Valmont (my wife that is to be) saw a—ghost.—Stay, let me recollect—a ghost, is I believe a terrific animal, dressed in chains, howling, shrieking, and always withdrawing in a flash of fire; yes, that's a ghost. This was something more gentle and complacent. Mrs. Valmont makes nice distinctions. I remember she called it an apparition, of a spirit—first appearing in the shape of an old hermit—then in that of a young handsome beau—first walking, manlike, into a wood—next bouncing up, fiend-like, on a sudden in an armoury.—Ay, it was a spirit Sibella saw.—She, poor little barbarian, is no better acquainted with the qualities of an apparition than of a man; for, simply enough, she complained to Mrs. Valmont of the disturbance given by this said shifting phantom to her meditations.