were strangely
intermingled. He bowed low to her, and was gone.

CHAPTER XVIII.

TWO CARDS PLAYED.

The morning following the scene with Ripon, his Majesty was in an
ill-temper. The events of the evening were not pleasant to remember;
then the King had lost largely at poker, and had passed a sleepless
night. Mrs. Carey had sent word that she had not recovered from her
fainting fit, and was not yet visible. Old Bugbee's promised remittance
had not arrived. And the entire court joined in what seemed a deliberate
effort to make things generally disagreeable. The pages who were on duty
at the royal toilet came in for some bad moments; and young Lord
Gladstone Churchill privately confided to Paran Paget that he had never
seen the old man in such a devil of a wax.

It seemed to the King that times had sadly changed from the regency of
his grandfather. Nobody had ever ventured to argue with him about the
desirability of the company he chose to keep. But now Wellington, the
Lord Chamberlain, and the Archbishop of Canterbury had as much as told
King George that he must break with Mrs. Carey. It was hard if he
couldn't have his own way even in the little court at the South End.
True, the papers had been full of Mrs. Carey these three months--the
last _Sunday Globe_ had contained a grand plan of her own and the royal
apartments, and the _Advertiser_ of the following day had printed,
without apparent reason, an editorial upon Mademoiselle de la Valliere.
But the King considered it highly impertinent of American journals to
make any personal comment whatever upon majesty, and had almost burst a
blood-vessel when approached soon after his arrival by an interviewer
from the New York _Herald_.

Still, there was one ugly fact remaining--Mrs. Carey's fainting fit.
What could have frightened her into that? Not Lord Brompton, with all
his rhodomontade--the King liked to call it rhodomontade; it soothed a
certain uneasy feeling he had had at times about his own part in the
affair. Brompton was ardent enough, but he was not well balanced; he was
impracticable; he did not properly sense the feeling of the times, but
was eager to force an opportunity. Well, well--where was Mrs. Carey? It
was audience time, and he meant to have her receive, with the ladies in
waiting. He rang the bell, and a page entered with a card. The King
looked at it, surprised; the card was something between an ordinary
visiting card and a tradesman's circul