her. I fear she will go soon," and he sighed
again. "Upon my soul I cannot make her out. I'll lay something handsome,
my Lord, that the madcap adventure with you after Richard sets the
gossips going. One day she is like a schoolgirl, and I blame myself for
not taking her mother's advice to send her to Mrs. Terry, at Campden
House; and the next, egad, she is as difficult to approach as a crowned
head. Well, gentlemen, I give you good day, I have an appointment at
White's. I am happy to see you have fallen in good hands, Richard. My
Lord, your most obedient!"

"He'll lay something handsome!" said my Lord, when the door had closed
behind him.

CHAPTER XXVIII. ARLINGTON STREET

The sun having come out, and John Paul not returning by two,--being
ogling, I supposed, the ladies in Hyde Park,--I left him a message and
betook myself with as great trepidation as ever to Dorothy's house. The
door was opened by the identical footman who had so insolently offered
me money, and I think he recognized me, for he backed away as he told
me the ladies were not at home. But I had not gone a dozen paces in my
disappointment when I heard him running after me, asking if my honour
were Mr. Richard Carvel.

"The ladies will see your honour," he said, and conducted me back into
the house and up the wide stairs. I had heard that Arlington Street was
known as the street of the King's ministers, and I surmised that Mr.
Manners had rented this house, and its furniture, from some great man
who had gone out of office, plainly a person of means and taste. The
hall, like that of many of the great town-houses, was in semi-darkness,
but I remarked that the stair railing was of costly iron-work and
polished brass; and, as I went up, that the stone niches in the wall
were filled with the busts of statesmen, and I recognized among these,
that of the great Walpole. A great copper gilt chandelier hung above.
But the picture of the drawing-room I was led into, with all its
colours, remains in the eye of my mind to this day. It was a large room,
the like of which I had never seen in any private residence of the New
World, situated in the back of the house. Its balcony overlooked the
fresh expanse of the Green Park. Upon its high ceiling floated Venus and
the graces, by Zucchi; and the mantel, upon which ticked an antique and
curious French clock, was carved marble.

On the gilt panels of the walls were wreaths of red roses. At least
a half-dozen tall