opposite the copy of a bust of the Apollo
Belvidere. After one or two trivial remarks, to which I sullenly replied,
he suddenly cried, looking at the bust, "I am called like that victor! Not
a bad idea; the head will serve for my new coinage, and be an omen to all
dutiful subjects of my future success."

He said this in his most gay, yet benevolent manner, and smiled, not
disdainfully, but in playful mockery of himself. Then his countenance
suddenly darkened, and in that shrill tone peculiar to himself, he cried,
"I fought a good battle last night; higher conquest the plains of Greece
never saw me achieve. Now I am the first man in the state, burthen of every
ballad, and object of old women's mumbled devotions. What are your
meditations? You, who fancy that you can read the human soul, as your
native lake reads each crevice and folding of its surrounding hills--say
what you think of me; king-expectant, angel or devil, which?"

This ironical tone was discord to my bursting, over-boiling-heart; I was
nettled by his insolence, and replied with bitterness; "There is a spirit,
neither angel or devil, damned to limbo merely." I saw his cheeks become
pale, and his lips whiten and quiver; his anger served but to enkindle
mine, and I answered with a determined look his eyes which glared on me;
suddenly they were withdrawn, cast down, a tear, I thought, wetted the dark
lashes; I was softened, and with involuntary emotion added, "Not that you
are such, my dear lord."

I paused, even awed by the agitation he evinced; "Yes," he said at length,
rising and biting his lip, as he strove to curb his passion; "Such am I!
You do not know me, Verney; neither you, nor our audience of last night,
nor does universal England know aught of me. I stand here, it would seem,
an elected king; this hand is about to grasp a sceptre; these brows feel in
each nerve the coming diadem. I appear to have strength, power, victory;
standing as a dome-supporting column stands; and I am--a reed! I have
ambition, and that attains its aim; my nightly dreams are realized, my
waking hopes fulfilled; a kingdom awaits my acceptance, my enemies are
overthrown. But here," and he struck his heart with violence, "here is the
rebel, here the stumbling-block; this over-ruling heart, which I may drain
of its living blood; but, while one fluttering pulsation remains, I am its
slave."

He spoke with a broken voice, then bowed his head, and, hiding his face in
his hands, we