found herself. The Beau, delighted, did his best to reassure her. He
flung himself at her feet, swore, with oaths more fashionable than
delicate, that she was the only woman he ever loved, and prevailed on
the widow so far as to induce her to 'call again to-morrow.'

Of course she came, and Adonis was in heaven. He wrote little poems to
her--for, as a gallant, he could of course make verses--serenaded her
through an Italian donna, invited her to suppers, at which the
delicacies of the season were served without regard to the purveyor's
account, and to which, coy as she was, she consented to come, and
clenched the engagement with a ring, on which was the motto, 'Tibi
Soli.' Nay, the Beau had been educated, and had some knowledge of 'the
tongues,' so that he added to these attentions the further one of a song
or two translated from the Greek. The widow ought to have been pleased,
and was. One thing only she stipulated, namely, that the marriage should
be private, lest her relations should forbid the banns.

Having brought her so far, it was not likely that the fortune-hunter
would stick at such a mere trifle, and accordingly an entertainment was
got up at the Beau's own rooms, a supper suitable to the rank and wealth
of the widow, provided by some obligingly credulous tradesman; a priest
found--for, be it premised, our hero had changed so much of his religion
as he had to change in the reign of James II., when Romanism was not
only fashionable, but a sure road to fortune--and the mutually satisfied
couple swore to love, honour, and obey one another till death them
should part.

The next morning, however, the widow left the gentleman's lodgings, on
the pretext that it was injudicious for her friends to know of their
union at present, and continued to visit her sposo and sup somewhat