"I don't care two straws about that," said David, coldly. "I have not spoken to her yet, but all the same I intend her to become my wife. I give you fair warning, Maurice, that you are not to poach upon my preserves."

"Your preserves. Confound your insolence!"

"Upon my word, David," said Jen, seeing that Maurice could hardly speak for rage, "you go too far. The girl loves Maurice and not you; and it would be much more honorable for you not to press your suit."

"I don't care two pins for honor, major! I love Isabella, and I intend to marry her. But become the wife of Maurice she never shall; I'd rather see her married to Etwald."

"The third Richmond who is in the field," scoffed Maurice. "Well, he has as good a chance as you. Dido supports his pretensions; Mrs. Dallas is your champion. As for me, I have the love of Isabella, so I'm afraid of nothing."

"Are you not?" said Sarby, with a peculiar smile. "Remember what Etwald said about your life-in-death!"

"I don't believe in that rubbish, David, and I should be very sorry to think you did."

"As to that, I don't care about discussing the point," was the reply. "Our own beliefs are our own business. But I must say that Etwald is a dangerous man, both to you and to me."

"I daresay," replied Maurice, coolly. "The more so, as I believe he has stolen the devil-stick."

"What!" David made a step forward and stared at the wall. His face was quite pale, and his hands trembled in spite of his efforts to control himself.

"The devil-stick gone!" he said, turning on his heel. "Both you and I must be careful, Maurice."

 

 

 

 

 CHAPTER VIII.

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