Lord Proxy. So, having knocked off four of his crack peers, he galloped
back to London to flog up his secretaries.

And the young Duke was off too. He had promised to spend a week with
Charles Annesley and Lord Squib, who had taken some Norfolk Baronet's
seat for the autumn, and while he was at Spa were thinning his
preserves. It was a week! What fantastic dissipation! One day, the
brains of three hundred hares made a _pate_ for Charles Annesley.
Oh, Heliogabalus! you gained eternal fame for what is now 'done in a
corner!'

CHAPTER II.

_A New Charmer_

THE Carnival of the North at length arrived. All civilised eyes were on
the most distinguished party of the most distinguished steward, who
with his horse Sanspareil seemed to share universal favour. The
French Princes and the Duke of Burlington; the Protocolis, and the
Fitz-pompeys, and the Bloomerlys; the Duke and Duchess of Shropshire,
and the three Ladies Wrekin, who might have passed for the Graces; Lord
and Lady Vatican on a visit from Rome, his Lordship taking hints for a
heat in the Corso, and her Ladyship, a classical beauty with a face like
a cameo; St. Maurice, and Annesley, and Squib, composed the party. The
Premier was expected, and there was murmur of an Archduke. Seven houses
had been prepared, a party-wall knocked down to make a dining-room, the
plate sent down from London, and venison and wine from Hauteville.

The assemblage exceeded in quantity and quality all preceding years,
and the Hauteville arms, the Hauteville liveries, and the Hauteville
outriders, beat all hollow in blazonry, and brilliancy, and number. The
North countrymen were proud of their young Duke and his carriages and
six, and longed for the Castle to be finished. Nothing could exceed the
propriety of the arrangements, for Sir Lucius was an unrivalled hand,
and, though a Newmarket man, gained universal approbation even in
Yorkshire. Lady Aphrodite was all smiles and new liveries, and the Duke
of St. James reined in his charger right often at her splendid equipage.

The day's sport was over, and the evening's sport begun, to a quiet man,
who has no bet more heavy than a dozen pair of gloves, perhaps not the
least amusing. Now came the numerous dinner-parties, none to be compared
to that of the Duke of St. James. Lady Aphrodite was alone wanting, but
she had to head the _menage_ of Sir Lucius. Every one has an appetite
after a race: the Duke of Shropshire attacked the ve