e mysterious arrangement
in his costume, some rare simplicity, some curious happiness, always
made it distinguished--there was nothing, however, in his dress, which
could account for the influence which he exercised over the manners of
his contemporaries. Charles Annesley was about thirty. He had inherited
from his father, a younger brother, a small estate; and, though heir
to a wealthy earldom, he had never abused what the world called 'his
prospects.' Yet his establishment, his little house in Mayfair, his
horses, his moderate stud at Melton, were all unique, and everything
connected with him was unparalleled for its elegance, its invention, and
its refinement. But his manner was his magic. His natural and subdued
nonchalance, so different from the assumed non-emotion of a mere dandy;
his coldness of heart, which was hereditary, not acquired; his cautious
courage, and his unadulterated self-love, had permitted him to mingle
much with mankind without being too deeply involved in the play of their
passions; while his exquisite sense of the ridiculous quickly revealed
those weaknesses to him which his delicate satire did not spare, even
while it refrained from wounding. All feared, marry admired, and none
hated him. He was too powerful not to dread, too dexterous not to
admire, too superior to hate. Perhaps the great secret of his manner
was his exquisite superciliousness, a quality which, of all, is the most
difficult to manage. Even with his intimates he was never confidential,
and perpetually assumed his public character with the private coterie
which he loved to rule. On the whole, he was unlike any of the leading
men of modern days, and rather reminded one of the fine gentlemen of our
old brilliant comedy, the Dorimants, the Bellairs, and the Mirabels.

Charles Annesley was a member of the distinguished party who were this
day to decide the fate of the young Duke. Let him come forward!

His Grace moved towards them, tall and elegant in figure, and with that
air of affable dignity which becomes a noble, and which adorns a court;
none of that affected indifference which seems to imply that nothing can
compensate for the exertion of moving, and 'which makes the dandy, while
it mars the man.' His large and somewhat sleepy grey eye, his clear
complexion, his small mouth, his aquiline nose, his transparent
forehead, his rich brown hair, and the delicacy of his extremities,
presented, when combined, a very excellent specim