abandoned his former lodging, we should lodge together at an inn he
named in Covent Garden, when he could introduce me to some pleasant
company. I accepted his offer most eagerly. Then he fell to talking of
the Court, of the households of the King and the Duke, of Madame the
Duchess of Orleans, who was soon to come to England, they said (on what
business he did not know); next he spoke, although now with caution, of
persons no less well known but of less high reputation, referring
lightly to Lady Castlemaine and Eleanor Gwyn and others, while I
listened, half-scandalised, half-pleased. But I called him back by
asking whether he were acquainted with one of the Duchess's ladies named
Mistress Barbara Quinton.

"Surely," he said. "There is no fairer lady at Court, and very few so
honest."

I hurried to let him know that Mistress Barbara and I were old friends.
He laughed as he answered,

"If you'd be more you must lose no time. It is impossible that she
should refuse many more suitors, and a nobleman of great estate is now
sighing for her so loudly as to be audible from Whitehall to Temple
Bar."

I heard the news with interest, with pride, and with a touch of
jealousy; but at this time my own fortunes so engrossed me that soon I
harked back to them, and, taking my courage in both hands, was about to
ask my companion if he had chanced ever to hear of Cydaria, when he gave
a new turn to the talk, by asking carelessly,

"You are a Churchman, sir, I suppose?"

"Why, yes," I answered, with a smile, and perhaps a bit of a stare.
"What did you conceive me to be, sir?--a Ranter, or a Papist?"

"Pardon, pardon, if you find offence in my question," he answered,
laughing. "There are many men who are one or the other, you know."

"The country has learnt that to its sorrow," said I sturdily.

"Ay," he said, in a dreamy way, "and maybe will learn it again." And
without more he fell to describing the famous regiment to which I was to
belong, adding at the end:

"And if you like a brawl, the 'prentices in the City will always find
one for a gentleman of the King's Guards. Take a companion or two with
you when you walk east of Temple Bar. By the way, sir, if the question
may be pardoned, how came you by your commission? For we know that
merit, standing alone, stands generally naked also."

I was much inclined to tell him all the story, but a shamefacedness came
over me. I did not know then how many owed all their advancement