33-2 



THE KKJKCTKU ONE. 



Fawcett thrust his tongue into his cheek ; and Stoker significantly 

 elongated his outstretched hands, resting his left thumb upon his 

 nise. The very bars of the grate grinned. " I sat with my beloved in 

 the same box at the Opera. I was her partner at balls, her attendant 

 every where, and I thought at last I could discover the symptoms of 

 a reciprocal attachment. The crisis was approaching bills came 

 fast pouring in, therefore my love must be confessed. 



One day she was reclining on an ottoman, caressing a corpulant 

 poodle, while I lay stretched before her on the carpet, in the attitude 

 of the Dying Gladiator. Tenderly, yet impressively I seized her 

 hand, and modulating my voice to its lowest and most musical tone, 

 I ventured to say, " Emily, sweet Emily ! do you love ?" 



A roseate blush overspread her countenance. " Spare me, Au- 

 gustus !" she murmured."' ' Ah ! dost thou confess the soft enslaver," 

 said I, starting to my feet. " O thou terrestrial seraph ! speak tell 

 me will thou wed?" A blush still deeper than before dyed her 

 burning cheek. Gates of paradise ! and when ?" In half audible 

 accents she whispered " Wednesday !" 



I seized her hand again ; O Cupid ! fairest denizen of Olympus ! 

 What do I not owe thee for this Wednesday ! Sweet, sweet Emily ! 

 adored Miss Pelican ! On that propitious day shall I lead you to the 

 altar ! On that day shall I place the sacred ring upon 



She started with a look of astonishment " You lead me to the 

 altar! on Wednesday I am to be married to Captain Ferdinand 

 Fitzspurs !" 



My brain spun round a red gleam of fire flashed before my 

 eyes a bolt of ice quivered in my heart I staggered, and reached 

 the street, I know not how. O the agony of that moment ! I feel 

 it even now my heart my brain my soul ! O Stoker O Faucitt 

 how hard it was again to be rejected ! 



" Werry," said Faucitt. 



" Werry," reverberated Stoker. And he grinned like a bag of 

 nails. 



" I rushed home like a demon. Fury was in my heart, and I 

 kicked over a stall of oranges I reached my lodgings, and entered 

 my room amongst an infinity of bills lay a packet, carefully sealed 

 was it a remittance from my relenting father I seized I opened 

 it madness! my two last Articles for the Monthly Magazine, 

 rejected ! O friends, do you not pity me ? 



" I do, pon my credit/' said Faucitt. The interesting youth had 

 just emerged from the Insolvent Court. 



" I do, pon my honour," said Stoker. He had been horsewhipped 

 at Epsom, for cheating at a thimble-rig. 



