he was before disdainful of the one and fearless of the
other. Sir Lucius and Lady Aphrodite Grafton were indeed on the best
possible terms, and the whole county admired his conjugal attentions and
her wifelike affections.

The Duke, who had no influence in this part of the world, and who was
not at all desirous of quitting Brighton, compensated for his absence at
this critical moment by a friendly letter and the offer of his purse.
By this good aid, his wife's attractions, and his own talents, Sir Lucy
succeeded, and by the time Parliament had assembled he was returned
member for his native county.

In the meantime, his friend had been spending his time at Brighton in a
far less agitated manner, but, in its way, not less successful; for he
was amused, and therefore gained his object as much as the Baronet. The
Duke liked Brighton much. Without the bore of an establishment, he found
himself among many agreeable friends, living in an unostentatious and
impromptu, though refined and luxurious, style. One day a new face,
another day a new dish, another day a new dance, successively interested
his feelings, particularly if the face rode, which they all do; the
dish was at Sir George Sauceville's, and the dance at the Duke of
Burlington's. So time flew on, between a canter to Rottindean, the
flavours of a Perigord, and the blunders of the mazurka.

But February arrived, and this agreeable life must end. The philosophy
of society is so practical that it is not allowed, even to a young Duke,
absolutely to trifle away existence. Duties will arise, in spite of our
best endeavours; and his Grace had to roll up to town, to dine with the
Premier, and to move the Address.

CHAPTER III.

_A New Star Rises_

ANOTHER season had arrived, another of those magical periods of which
one had already witnessed his unparalleled triumphs, and from which
he had derived such exquisite delight. To his surprise, he viewed its
arrival without emotion; if with any feeling, with disgust.

He had quaffed the cup too eagerly. The draught had been delicious; but
time also proved that it had been satiating. Was it possible for his
vanity to be more completely gratified than it had been? Was it possible
for victories to be more numerous and more unquestioned during the
coming campaign than during the last? Had not his life, then, been one
long triumph? Who had not offered their admiration? Who had not paid
homage to his all-acknowledged