on the opposite house. What passes in
his mind we know not. Perhaps he is reminded that in that mansion dwell
beauty, wealth, and influence, and that all might be his. Perhaps love
prompts that gaze, perhaps ambition. Is it passion, or is it power? or
does one struggle with the other?

As he gazes the door opens, but without servants; and a man, deeply
shrouded in his cloak, comes out. It was night, and the individual
was disguised; but there are eyes which can pierce at all seasons and
through all concealments, and Arundel Dacre marked with astonishment Sir
Lucius Grafton.

CHAPTER XIV.

_Reconciliation_

WHEN it was understood that the Duke of St. James had been delirious,
public feeling reached what is called its height; that is to say, the
curiosity and the ignorance of the world were about equal. Everybody was
indignant, not so much because the young Duke had been shot, but because
they did not know why. If the sympathy of the women could have consoled
him, our hero might have been reconciled to his fate. Among these, no
one appeared more anxious as to the result, and more ignorant as to
the cause, than Mrs. Dallington Vere. Arundel Dacre called on her the
morning ensuing his midnight observation, but understood that she had
not seen Sir Lucius Grafton, who, they said, had quitted London, which
she thought probable. Nevertheless Arundel thought proper to walk down
Hill Street at the same hour, and, if not at the same minute, yet in due
course of time, he discovered the absent man.

In two or three days the young Duke was declared out of immediate
danger, though his attendants must say he remained exceedingly restless,
and by no means in a satisfactory state; yet, with their aid, they had
a right to hope the best. At any rate, if he were to go off, his friends
would have the satisfaction of remembering that all had been done
that could be; so saying, Dr. X. took his fee, and Surgeons Y. and Z.
prevented his conduct from being singular.

Now began the operations on the Grafton side. A letter from Lady
Aphrodite full of distraction. She was fairly mystified. What could
have induced Lucy suddenly to act so, puzzled her, as well it might. Her
despair, and yet her confidence in his Grace, seemed equally great. Some
talk there was of going off to Cleve at once. Her husband, on the whole,
maintained a rigid silence and studied coolness. Yet he had talked of
Vienna and Florence, and even murmured something