ar in vain, but one
morning he came to see me, looking in high spirits.

"Where have you been hiding all this time?" said I, "I have been looking
for you everywhere."

"Love has been keeping me a prisoner," said he, "I have got some money
for you."

"For me? From what quarter?"

"On behalf of the Ansperghers. Give me a receipt and the necessary
declaration, for I am going to restore them myself to the poor
Charpillon, who has been weeping for the last fortnight."

"I daresay she has, I have seen her weep myself; but I like the way in
which she has chosen the being who delivered me from her chains as a
protector. Does she know that I owe my life to you?"

"She only knew that I was with you at Ranelagh when you saw her dancing
instead of dying, but I have told her the whole story since."

"No doubt she wants you to plead with me in her favour."

"By no means. She has just been telling me that you are a monster of
ingratitude, for she loved you and gave you several proofs of her
affection, but now she hates you."

"Thank Heaven for that! The wretched woman! It's curious she should have
selected you as her lover by way of taking vengeance on me, but take
care! she will punish you."

"It may be so, but at all events it's a pleasant kind of punishment."

"I hope you may be happy, but look to yourself; she is a mistress in all
sorts of deceit."

Edgar counted me out two hundred and fifty guineas, for which I gave him
a receipt and the declaration he required, and with these documents he
went off in high spirits.

After this I might surely flatter myself that all was at an end between
us, but I was mistaken.

Just about this time the Crown Prince of Brunswick, now the reigning
duke, married the King of England's sister. The Common Council presented
him with the freedom of the City, and the Goldsmith's Company admitted
him into their society, and gave him a splendid box containing the
documents which made him a London citizen. The prince was the first
gentleman in Europe, and yet he did not disdain to add this new honour to
a family illustrious for fourteen hundred years.

On this occasion Lady Harrington was the means of getting Madame Cornelis
two hundred guineas. She lent her room in Soho Square to a confectioner
who gave a ball and supper to a thousand persons at three guineas each. I
paid my three guineas, and had the honour of standing up all the evening
with six hundred others, for the table only seated