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The Duke of Haverfield and Lord Ulswater continued their friendship through life; and the letters of our dear Flora to her correspondent, Eleanor, did not cease even with that critical and perilous period to all maiden correspondents, Marriage. And Isabel Mordaunt? Ah! not in these pages shall her history be told even in epitome.
He soon left us, and after the Opera I saw him with the Duke of Haverfield, one of the most incorrigible roues of the day, leading out a woman of notoriously bad character and of the most ostentatious profligacy.
Will you hear the letter? . . . . . This is the motley-minded gentleman that I have before met in the forest. As You Like It. A morning or two after the conversation with which our last chapter concluded, Clarence received the following letter from the Duke of Haverfield:
George replied to his observations by a monosyllable; and the Duke of Haverfield, for the first time in his life, asserted the prerogative which his rank gave him of setting the example, his grace did not reply to Lord Borodaile at all. In truth, every one present was seriously displeased. All civilized societies have a paramount interest in repressing the rude.
George replied to his observations by a monosyllable; and the Duke of Haverfield, for the first time in his life, asserted the prerogative which his rank gave him of setting the example, his grace did not reply to Lord Borodaile at all. In truth, every one present was seriously displeased. All civilized societies have a paramount interest in repressing the rude.
He hurried along the passage, with his eyes fixed upon the ground and his hand clenched. "What ho! Linden, my good fellow; why, you look as if all the ferocity of the great Figg were in your veins," cried a good-humoured voice. Clarence started, and saw the young and high-spirited Duke of Haverfield. "Are you going behind the scenes?" said his grace.
Listen to me, and then stay at your host's or order your swiftest steed, as seems most meet to you. You said rightly that Miss Trevanion, now her Grace of Haverfield, was the intimate friend of Lady Flora Ardenne. I have often talked to her namely, Eleanor, not Lady Flora about you, and was renewing the conversation yesterday, when your letter, accidentally lying before me, reminded me of you.
The clock had just struck the hour of twelve when a knock at the door announced a visitor. Steps were heard on the stairs and presently a tap at Clarence's room-door. He unlocked it and the Duke of Haverfield entered. "I am charmed to find you at home," cried the duke, with his usual half kind, half careless address.
I shall be proud to have that honour," said Borodaile, with sparkling eyes; "will Lady Westborough be also of the party?" "No, poor Lady St. George is very ill, and I have taken the opportunity to ask only men." "You have done wisely, my lord," said Borodaile, secum multa revolvens; "and I assure you I wanted no hint to remind me of your invitation." Here the Duke of Haverfield joined them.
And Professor Haverfield has pointed out that a City has more chance of taking in the whole world to its freedoms and privileges than a Nation has of making men of alien birth its compatriots. A Jew of Tarsus could easily be granted the civic rights of Rome: he could never have been made an Italian or a Frenchman.
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