'Dearest Lady Aphrodite, do not distress yourself. I can wait here till the carriage returns, or I can walk; to be sure, I can walk. Pray, pray take the carriage! As a favour--as a favour to me!'

'But I cannot bear you to walk. I know you dislike walking.'

'Well, then, I will wait.'

'Well, if it must be so; but I am ashamed to inconvenience you. How provoking of these men! Pray, then, tell the coachman to drive fast, that you may not have to wait. I declare there is scarcely a human being in the room; and those odd people are staring so!'

He pressed her arm as he led her to his carriage. She is in; and yet, before the door shuts, he lingers.

'I shall certainly walk,' said he. 'I do not think the easterly wind will make me very ill. Good-bye! Oh, what a _coup-de-vent_!'

'Let me get out, then; and pray, pray take the carriage. I would much sooner do anything than go in it. I would much rather walk. I am sure you will be ill!'

'Not if I be with you.'

CHAPTER XII.

_Royal Favour_

THERE was a brilliant levee, all stars and garters; and a splendid drawing-room, all plumes and _seduisantes_. Many a bright eye, as its owner fought his way down St. James's Street, shot a wistful glance at the enchanted bow-window where the Duke and his usual companions, Sir Lucius, Charles Annesley, and Lord Squib, lounged and laughed, stretched themselves and sneered: many a bright eye, that for a moment pierced the futurity that painted her going in state as d.u.c.h.ess of St. James.

His Majesty summoned a dinner party, a rare but magnificent event, and the chief of the house of Hauteville appeared among the chosen va.s.sals. This visit did the young Duke good; and a few more might have permanently cured the conceit which the present one momentarily calmed.

His Grace saw the plate, and was filled with envy; his Grace listened to his Majesty, and was filled with admiration. O, father of thy people! if thou wouldst but look a little oftener on thy younger sons, their morals and their manners might be alike improved.

His Majesty, in the course of the evening, with his usual good-nature, signalled out for his notice the youngest, and not the least distinguished, of his guests. He complimented the young Duke on the accession to the ornaments of his court, and said, with a smile, that he had heard of conquests in foreign ones. The Duke accounted for his slight successes by reminding his Majesty that he had the honour of being his G.o.dson, and this he said in a slight and easy way, not smart or quick, or as a repartee to the royal observation; for 'it is not decorous to bandy compliments with your Sovereign.' His Majesty asked some questions about an Emperor or an Archd.u.c.h.ess, and his Grace answered to the purpose, but short, and not too pointed. He listened rather than spoke, and smiled more a.s.sents than he uttered. The King was pleased with his young subject, and marked his approbation by conversing with that unrivalled affability which is gall to a Roundhead and inspiration to a Cavalier. There was a _bon mot_, which blazed with all the soft brilliancy of sheet lightning. What a contrast to the forky flashes of a regular wit! Then there was an anecdote of Sheridan--the royal Sheridaniana are not thrice-told tales--recounted with that curious felicity which has long stamped the ill.u.s.trious narrator as a consummate _raconteur_. Then----but the Duke knew when to withdraw; and he withdrew with renewed loyalty.

CHAPTER XIII.

_A Lover's Trick_

ONE day, looking in at his jeweller's, to see some models of a shield and vases which were executing for him in gold, the young Duke met Lady Aphrodite and the Fitz-pompeys. Lady Aphrodite was speaking to the jeweller about her diamonds, which were to be reset for her approaching fete. The Duke took the ladies upstairs to look at the models, and while they were intent upon them and other curiosities, his absence for a moment was unperceived. He ran downstairs and caught Mr. Garnet.

'Mr. Garnet! I think I saw Lady Aphrodite give you her diamonds?' 'Yes, your Grace.'

'Are they valuable?' in a careless tone. 'Hum! pretty stones; very pretty stones, indeed. Few Baronets' ladies have a prettier set; worth perhaps a 1000L.; say 1200L. Lady Aphrodite Grafton is not the d.u.c.h.ess of St. James, you know,' said Mr. Garnet, as if he antic.i.p.ated furnishing that future lady with a very different set of brilliants.

'Mr. Garnet, you can do me the greatest favour.' 'Your Grace has only to command me at all times.'

'Well, then, in a word, for time presses, can you contrive, without particularly altering--that is, without altering the general appearance of these diamonds--can you contrive to change the stones, and subst.i.tute the most valuable that you have; consistent, as I must impress upon you, with maintaining their general appearance as at present?'

'The most valuable stones,' musingly repeated Mr. Garnet; 'general appearance as at present? Your Grace is aware that we may run up some thousands even in this set?'

'I give you no limit.'

'But the time,' rejoined Mr. Garnet. 'They must be ready for her Ladyship's party. We shall be hard pressed. I am afraid of the time.'

'Cannot the men work all night? Pay them anything.'

'It shall be done, your Grace. Your Grace may command me in anything.'

'This is a secret between us, Garnet. Your partners------'

'Shall know nothing. And as for myself, I am as close as an emerald in a seal-ring.'

CHAPTER XIV.

_Close of the Season_

HUSSEIN PACHA, 'the favourite,' not only of the Marquess of Mash, but of Tattersall's, unaccountably sickened and died. His n.o.ble master, full of chagrin took to his bed, and followed his steed's example. The death of the Marquess caused a vacancy in the stewardship of the approaching Doncaster. Sir Lucius Grafton was the other steward, and he proposed to the Duke of St. James, as he was a Yorkshireman, to become his colleague. His Grace, who wished to pay a compliment to his county, closed with the proposition. Sir Lucius was a first-rate jockey; his colleague was quite ignorant of the n.o.ble science in all its details; but that was of slight importance. The Baronet was to be the working partner, and do the business; the Duke the show member of the concern, and do the magnificence; as one banker, you may observe, lives always in Portland Place, reads the Court Journal all the morning, and has an opera-box, while his partner lodges in Lombard Street, thumbs a price-current, and only has a box at Clapham.

The young Duke, however, was ambitious of making a good book; and, with all the calm impetuosity which characterises a youthful Hauteville, determined to have a crack stud at once. So at Ascot, where he spent a few pleasant hours, dined at the Cottage, was caught in a shower, in return caught a cold, a slight influenza for a week, and all the world full of inquiries and anxiety; at Ascot, I say, he bought up all the winning horses at an average of three thousand guineas for each pair of ears. Sir Lucius stared, remonstrated, and, as his remonstrances were in vain, a.s.sisted him.

As people at the point of death often make a desperate rally, so this, the most brilliant of seasons, was even more lively as it nearer approached its end. The _dejeuner_ and the _villa fete_ the water party and the rambling ride, followed each other with the bright rapidity of the final scenes in a pantomime. Each _dama_ seemed only inspired with the ambition of giving the last ball; and so numerous were the parties that the town really sometimes seemed illuminated. To breakfast at Twickenham, and to dine in Belgrave Square; to hear,' or rather to honour, half an act of an opera; to campaign through half a dozen private b.a.l.l.s, and to finish with a romp at the rooms, as after our wine we take a gla.s.s of liqueur; all this surely required the courage of an Alexander and the strength of a Hercules, and, indeed, cannot be achieved without the miraculous powers of a Joshua. So thought the young Duke, as with an excited mind and a whirling head he threw himself at half-past six o'clock on a couch which brought him no sleep.

Yet he recovered, and with the aid of the bath, the soda, and the coffee, and all the thousand remedies which a skilful valet has ever at hand, at three o'clock on the same day he rose and dressed, and in an hour was again at the ill.u.s.trious bow-window, sneering with Charles Annesley, or laughing downright with Lord Squib.

The Duke of St. James gave a water party, and the astounded Thames swelled with pride as his broad breast bore on the ducal barges. St.

Maurice, who was in the Guards, secured his band; and Lord Squib, who, though it was July, brought a furred great coat, secured himself. Lady Afy looked like Amphitrite, and Lady Caroline looked in love. They wandered in gardens like Calypso's; they rambled over a villa which reminded them of Baise; they partook of a banquet which should have been described by Ariosto. All were delighted; they delivered themselves to the charms of an unrestrained gaiety. Even Charles Annesley laughed and romped.

This is the only mode in which public eating is essentially agreeable.

A banqueting-hall is often the scene of exquisite pleasure; but that is not so much excited by the gratification of a delicate palate as by the magnificent effect of light and shade; by the beautiful women, the radiant jewels, the graceful costume, the rainbow gla.s.s, the glowing wines, the glorious plate. For the rest, all is too hot, too crowded, and too noisy, to catch a flavour; to a.n.a.lyse a combination, to dwell upon a gust. To eat, _really_ to eat, one must eat alone, with a soft light, with simple furniture, an easy dress, and a single dish, at a time. Hours of bliss! Hours of virtue! for what is more virtuous than to be conscious of the blessings of a bountiful Nature? A good eater must be a good man; for a good eater must have a good digestion, and a good digestion depends upon a good conscience.

But to our tale. If we be dull, skip: time will fly, and beauty will fade, and wit grow dull, and even the season, although it seems, for the nonce, like the existence of Olympus, will nevertheless steal away. It is the hour when trade grows dull and tradesmen grow duller; it is the hour that Howell loveth not and Stultz cannot abide; though the first may be consoled by the ghosts of his departed millions of _mouchoirs_, and the second by the vision of coming millions of shooting-jackets. Oh, why that sigh, my gloomy Mr. Gunter? Oh, why that frown, my gentle Mrs.

Grange?

One by one the great houses shut; shoal by shoal the little people sail away. Yet beauty lingers still. Still the magnet of a straggling ball attracts the remaining brilliants; still a lagging dinner, like a sumpter-mule on a march, is a mark for plunder. The Park, too, is not yet empty, and perhaps is even more fascinating; like a beauty in a consumption, who each day gets thinner and more fair. The young Duke remained to the last; for we linger about our first season, as we do about our first mistress, rather wearied, yet full of delightful reminiscences.

BOOK II.

CHAPTER I.

_His Grace Meets an Early Love_

LADY APHRODITE and the Duke of St. James were for the first time parted; and with an absolute belief on the lady's side, and an avowed conviction on the gentleman's, that it was impossible to live asunder, they separated, her Ladyship shedding some temporary tears, and his Grace vowing eternal fidelity.