Julia's heart swelled so that she could not utter a word.
"Dearest," said Frank, "I think you told me you had no objection to smoking?"
"None in the least," said the bride; "I rather like the flavor of a cigar."
"O, a cigar!" replied Belmont; "that would never do for a poor man."
And O, horror! he produced an old clay pipe, and filling it from a little newspaper parcel of tobacco, began to smoke with a keen relish.
"Dinner! dinner!" he exclaimed at length; "ah! thank you, mother; I'm as hungry as a bear. Codfish and potatoes, Julia—not very tempting fare—but what of that? our aliment is love!"
"Yes, and by way of treat," added the old woman, "I've been and gone and bought a whole pint of Albany ale, and three cream cakes, from the candy shop next block."
Poor Julia pleaded indisposition, and could not eat a mouthful. Before Belmont, however, the codfish and potatoes, and the ale, and cream cakes disappeared with a very unromantic and unlover-like velocity. At the close of the meal, a thundering double knock was heard at the door.
"Come in!" cried Belmont.
A low-browed man, in a green waistcoat, entered.