The chair that Provis had occupied still remaining where it had Stood,--for he had a barrack way with him of hanging about one spot, in one unsettled manner, and going through one round of observances with his pipe and his negro-head and his jackknife and his pack of cards, and what not, as if it were all put down for him on a slate,--I say his chair remaining where it had stood, Herbert unconsciously took it, but next moment started out of it, pushed it away, and took another. He had no occasion to say after that that he had conceived an aversion for my patron, neither had I occasion to confess my own. We interchanged that confidence without shaping a syllable.

     "What," said I to Herbert, when he was safe in another chair,--"what is to be done?"

     "My poor dear Handel," he replied, holding his head, "I am too stunned to think."

     "So was I, Herbert, when the blow first fell. Still, something must be done. He is intent upon various new expenses,--horses, and carriages, and lavish appearances of all kinds. He must be stopped somehow."

     "You mean that you can't accept--"

     "How can I?" I interposed, as Herbert paused. "Think of him! Look at him!"