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She is very agreeable, and a little witty; sufficient attractions for one in her situation." "But do tell me a little of her history," said Clarence, "for, in spite of her renown, I only know her as La belle Meronville. Is she not living en ami with some one of our acquaintance?" "To be sure," replied the duke, "with Lord Borodaile.
Clarence coloured, and bit his lip as he seated himself. Mr. Percy Bobus, with true insular breeding, took up the newspaper. "I think I saw you at Lady C.'s last night," said Clarence; "did you stay there long?" "No, indeed," answered Borodaile; "I hate her parties." "One does meet such odd people there," observed Mr. Percy Bobus; "creatures one never sees anywhere else:"
"So, they say," observed Lord St. George, "that young Linden is to marry Lady Flora Ardenne." "Les on-dits font la gazette des fous," rejoined Borodaile with a sneer. "I believe that Lady Flora is little likely to contract such a misalliance." "Misalliance!" replied Lord St. George. "I thought Linden was of a very old family; which you know the Westboroughs are not, and he has great expectations "
His eye was always eloquent in disdaining; to the plebeian it said, "You are not a gentleman;" to the prince, "You are not Lord Borodaile." Yet, with all this, he had his good points.
She is very agreeable, and a little witty; sufficient attractions for one in her situation." "But do tell me a little of her history," said Clarence, "for, in spite of her renown, I only know her as La belle Meronville. Is she not living en ami with some one of our acquaintance?" "To be sure," replied the duke, "with Lord Borodaile.
"And yet," returned the viscount, stung to the soul, "they who advance false pretensions ought at least to support them!" "I do not understand you, my lord," said Clarence. "Possibly not," answered Borodaile, carelessly: "there is a maxim which says that people not accustomed to speak truth cannot comprehend it in others."
"He is worthy his name," thought Clarence; "though he was in the wrong, my heart yearns to him." Things wear a vizard which I think to like not. Tanner of Tyburn. Clarence, from that night, appeared to have formed a sudden attachment to Lord Borodaile.
Ah, my dear fellow, if you had but shot that frosty Caucasus of humanity, that pillar of the state, made not to bend, that but you know already whom I mean, and so I will spare you more of my lamentable metaphors: had you shot Lord Borodaile, your happiness would now be complete! Everybody talks of your luck.
When they arrived at the ground, Clarence and the duke were already there: the latter, who was a dead shot, had fully persuaded himself that Clarence was equally adroit, and had, in his providence for Borodaile, brought a surgeon. This was a circumstance of which the viscount, in the plenitude of his confidence for himself and indifference for his opponent, had never once dreamed.
"I detest that fellow!" said Lord Borodaile, involuntarily and aloud, as these unwilling truths forced themselves upon his mind. "Whom do you detest?" asked Mr. Percy Bobus, who was lying on the sofa in Lord Borodaile's drawing-room, and admiring a pair of red-heeled shoes which decorated his feet. "That puppy Linden!" said Lord Borodaile, adjusting his cravat.
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