to undertake that the lady should meet the gentleman in the most unpremeditated manner.  Various schemes were resorted to:  with the alias, for he was not above an alias, of Major-General Villars, the Beau called at the widow’s country house, and was permitted to see the gardens.  At a window he espied a lady, whom he took to be the object of his pursuit—­bowed to her majestically, and went away, persuaded he must have made an impression.  But, whether the widow was wiser than wearers of weeds have the reputation of being, or whether the agent had really no power in the matter, the meeting never came on.

The hairdresser naturally grew anxious, the douceur was too good to be lost, and as the widow could not be had, some one must be supplied in her place.

One day while the Beau was sitting in his splendid ‘night-gown,’ as the morning-dress of gentlemen was then called, two ladies were ushered into his august presence.  He had been warned of this visit, and was prepared to receive the yielding widow.  The one, of course, was the hairdresser, the other a young, pretty, and apparently modest creature, who blushed much—­though with some difficulty—­at the trying position in which she 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.