Like all who have abused life, Vernon was not the same man in the early part of the day.

The spirits that rose to temperate heat the third hour after noon, and expanded into glow when the lights shone over gay carousers, at morning were flat and exhausted.

With hollow eyes and that weary fall of the muscles of the cheeks which betrays the votary of Bacchus,--the convivial three-bottle man,--Charley Vernon forced a smile, meant to be airy and impertinent, to his pale lips, as he rose with effort, and extended three fingers to his cousin.
"Where have you been hiding?
Catching bloom from the roses?
You have the prettiest shade of colour,--just enough; not a hue too much.

And there is Sir Miles's valet gone to the rectory, and the fat footman puffing away towards the village, and I, like a faithful warden, from my post at the castle, all looking out for the truant." "But who wants me, cousin ?" said Lucretia, with the full blaze of her rare and captivating smile.
"The knight of Laughton confessedly wants thee, O damsel! The knight of the Bleeding Heart may want thee more,--dare he own it ?" And with a hand that trembled a little, not with love, at least, it trembled always a little before the Madeira at luncheon,--he lifted hers to his lips.
"Compliments again,--words, idle words!" said Lucretia, looking down bashfully.
"How can I convince thee of my sincerity, unless thou takest my life as its pledge, maid of Laughton ?" And very much tired of standing, Charley Vernon drew her gently to the bench and seated himself by her side.

Lucretia's eyes were still downcast, and she remained silent; Vernon, suppressing a yawn, felt that he was bound to continue.