With a quiet step, and firm, neither "overtaken" by liquor nor fatigued by the night's debauch, Davis hastened to his chamber. So long as he was occupied with the cares of dressing, his features betrayed no unusual anxiety; he did, indeed, endeavor to attire himself with more than ordinary care; and one cravat after another did he fling on the floor, where a number of embroidered vests were already lying. At length the toilet was completed, and Grog surveyed himself in the large glass, and was satisfied. He knew he didn't look like Annesley Beecher and that "lot," still less did he resemble the old "swells" of Brookes's and the Carlton; but he thought there was something military, something sporting,--a dash of the "nag," with "Newmarket,"--about him, that might pass muster anywhere! "At all events, Lizzy won't be ashamed of me,"

muttered he to himself. "Poor, poor Lizzy!" added he, in a broken tone; and he sank down into a chair, and leaned his head on the table.

A gentle tap came to the door. "Come in," said he, without raising his head; and she entered.

As the rich robe of silk rustled across the floor, he never raised his head; nor even when, bending over, she threw an arm around his neck and kissed his forehead, did he stir or move.

"I want you to look at me, dearest papa," said she, softly.

"My poor Lizzy,--my own dear Lizzy!" murmured he, half indistinctly; then, starting suddenly up, he cried aloud, "Good heavens! is it worth all this--"

"No, indeed, papa," burst she in; "it is _not_--it is _not_ worth it!"

"What do you mean?" asked he, abruptly. "What were you thinking of?"

"It was _your_ thoughts I was following out," said she, drearily.

"How handsome,--how beautiful you are, girl!" exclaimed he, as, holding both her hands, he surveyed her at full length. "Is this Brussels lace?"

She nodded assent

"And what do you call these buttons?"

"They are opals."

"How it all becomes you, girl! I'd never like to see you less smartly dressed! And now.--and now I am to lose you!" And he fell upon her neck, and clasped her fondly to his heart.

"Oh, my dear father, if you knew--" She could not continue.

"And don't I know!" broke he in. "Do you think that all my hard, bad experience of life has left me so bereft of feeling! But I 'll tell you another thing I know, Lizzy," said he, in a deep, calm voice; "that what we fancy must break our hearts to do we can bear, and bear patiently, and, what's more, so learn to conform to, that after a few years of life we wonder that we ever thought them hardships!"

"We do not change so much without heavy suffering!" said she, sorrowfully.

"That is possible too," said he, sighing. Then, suddenly rallying, he said, "You'll write to me often, very often, Lizzy; I 'll want to hear how you get on with these great folk; not that I fear anything, only this, girl, that their jealousy will stimulate their rancor. You are so handsome, girl! so handsome!"

"I 'm glad of it," said she, with an air of proud exultation.

"Who's there?" cried Davis, impatiently, as a sharp knock came to the door. It was the Reverend Paul come to borrow a white neckcloth, none of his own being sufficiently imposing for such an occasion.

"I am scarcely presentable, Miss Davis. I am sure I address Miss Davis,"

said he, pushing into the room, and bowing ceremoniously at each step.

"There can be but only one so eminently beautiful!"

"There, take what you want, and be off!" cried Davis, rudely.

"Your father usurps all the privileges of long friendship, and emboldens me to claim some, too, my dear young lady. Let me kiss the fairest hand in Christendom." And with a reverential homage all his own, Paul bent down and touched her hand with his lips.

"This is the Reverend Paul Classon, Lizzy," said Davis,--"a great dignitary of the Church, and an old schoolfellow of mine."

"I am always happy to know a friend of my father's," said she, smiling gracefully. "You have only just arrived?"

"This moment!" said he, with a glance towards Grog.

"There, away with you, and finish your dressing," broke in Davis, angrily; "I see it is nigh seven o'clock."

"Past seven, rather; and the company assembled below stairs, and Mr.

Beecher--for I presume it must be he--pacing the little terrace in all the impatience of a bride-groom. Miss Davis, your servant." And with a bow of deep reverence Paul retired.

"There were so many things running in my mind to say to you, Lizzy,"

said Davis, "when that Classon came in." It was very hard for him not to add an epithet; but he _did_ escape that peril.

"I own, papa, he did not impress me very favorably."

"He's a first-rate man, a great scholar, a regular don amongst the shovel-hats," said Grog, hastily; "that man was within an ace of being a bishop. But it was not of _him_ my head was full, girl. I wanted to talk to you about Beecher and that haughty sister-in-law of his. _She_ 'll 'try-it on' with you, Lizzy; I 'm sure she will!"

"Dearest papa, how often have you told me that in preparing for the accidents of life we but often exaggerate their importance. I'll not anticipate evil."

"Here's Beecher!--here he is!" cried Davis, as he clasped her once more to his heart; and then, opening the door, led her down the stairs.

There was a full assemblage of all the folk of the little inn, and the room was crowded. The landlord and his wife, and four buxom daughters and two sons, were there; and a dapper waiter, with very tight-fitting trousers, and a housemaid, and three farm-servants, all with big bouquets in their hands and huge bows of white ribbon on their breasts; and Mademoiselle Annette, Lizzy's maid, in a lilac, silk and a white crape bonnet; and Peters, Beecher's man, in a most accurate blue frock, except his master, looking far more like a gentleman than any one there.

As for Annesley Beecher, no man ever more accurately understood how to "costume" for every circumstance in life; and whether you saw him lounging over the rail in Rotten Row, strolling through the Park at Richmond, sunning himself at Cowes, or yawning through a wet day in a country-house, his "get-up" was sure to be faultless. Hundreds tried in vain to catch the inimitable curl of his hat, the unattainable sweep of his waistcoat-collar; and then there were shades and tones of his color about him that were especially his own. Of course, I am not about to describe his appearance on this morning; it is enough if I say that he bestowed every care upon it, and succeeded. And Paul,--Holy Paul,--how blandly imposing, how unctuously serene he looked! Marriage was truly a benediction at such hands. He faltered a little, his dulcet accents trembled with a modest reluctance, as he asked, "'Wilt thou take--this woman--'" Could he have changed the Liturgy for the occasion, he had said, "this angel;" as it was, his voice compensated for the syllables, and the question was breathed out like air from the Garden of Eden.

And so they were married; and there was a grand breakfast, where all the household were assembled, and where Paul Classon made a most effective little speech to "the health of the bride," interpolating his English and German with a tact all his own; and then they drove away with four posters, with all the noise and whip-cracking, the sighs and smiles and last good-byes, just as if the scene had been Hanover Square, and the High Priest a Canon of Westminster!

CHAPTER XXV. STUNNING TIDINGS

A telegram, duly despatched, had prepared the hotel of the Cour de Bade for the arrival of the Honorable Annesley and Mrs. Beecher; and when the well-appointed travelling-carriage came clattering into the _porte-cochere_ at nightfall, there was a dress parade of landlord and waiters ready to receive them.

It was a very long time since Beecher had felt the self-importance of being deemed rich. For many a year back life had been but a series of struggles, and it was a very delightful sensation to him to witness once more all the ready homage, all the obsequious attention which are only rendered to affluence. Herr Bauer had got the despatch just in time to keep his handsomest suite of rooms for him; indeed, he had "sent away the Margraf of Schweinerhausen, who wanted them." This was gratifying; and, limited as Beecher's German was, he could catch the muttered exclamations of "Ach Grott, wie schon!" "Wie leiblich!" as his beautiful wife passed up the stairs; and this, too, pleased him. In fact, his was just then the glorious mood that comes once in a lifetime to the luckiest of us,--to be charmed with everything.

To enjoy the sunshine one must have sojourned in shadow; and, certainly, prosperity is never so entrancing as after some experience of its opposite, and Beecher was never wearied of admiring the splendor of the apartment, the wonderful promptitude of the waiters, and the excellence of everything. It must be owned the dinner was in Bauer's best style,--the bisque, the raebraten, the pheasant, all that could be wished for; and when the imposing host himself uncorked a precious flask of a "Cabinet Steinberger," Beecher felt it was a very charming world when one had only got to the sunny side of it. Mr. Bauer--a politeness rarely accorded, save to the highest rank--directed the service in person, and vouchsafed to be agreeable during the repast.

"And so your season was a good one, Bauer?" said Beecher.

"Reasonably so, your Excellency. We had the King of Wurtemberg, the Queen of Greece, a couple of archdukes, and a crown prince of something far north,--second rate ones all, but good people, and easily satisfied."

Beecher gave a significant glance towards Lizzy, and went on: "And who were your English visitors?"

"The old set, your Excellency: the Duke of Middleton, Lord Headlam and his four daughters, Sir Hipsley Keyling, to break the bank, as usual--"

"And did he?"

"No, Excellency; it broke _him_."

"Poor devil! it ain't so easy to get to windward of those fellows, Bauer; they are too many for us, eh?" said Beecher, chuckling with the consciousness that _he_ had the key to that mysterious secret.