te his
Calling, to dine with us this very Day, that we may express to him
our Gratitude. I know you are far too Sensible not to come to
Arlington Street. I subscribe myself, Richard, y'r sincere Friend,

"MARGARET MANNERS."

There was not so much as a postscript from Dolly, as I had hoped. But
the letter was whole-souled, like Mrs. Manners, and breathed the
affection she had always had for me. I honoured her the more that she
had not attempted to excuse Mr. Manners's conduct.

"You will come, Richard?" cried Mr. Marmaduke, with an attempt at
heartiness. "You must come, and the captain, too. For I hear, with
regret, that you are not to be long with us."

I caught another significant look from Comyn from between the window
curtains. But I accepted for myself, and conditionally for John Paul.
Mr. Manners rose to take his leave.

"Dorothy will be glad to see you," he said. "I often think, Richard,
that she tires of these generals and King's ministers, and longs for a
romp at Wilmot House again. Alas," he sighed, offering us a pinch of
snuff (which he said was the famous Number 37), "alas, she has had a deal
too much of attention, with his Grace of Chartersea and a dozen others
would to marry 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