rselves of our afflictions.

I drew my portfeuille to me, and wrote to Lord Dawton. Three hours
after I had sent the note, he called upon me. I gave him Lord Chester's
letter, but he had already received from that nobleman a notification of
my success. He was profuse in his compliments and thanks.

"And, do you know," added the statesman, "that you have quite made a
conquest of Lord Guloseton? He speaks of you publicly in the highest
terms: I wish we could get him and his votes. We must be strengthened,
my dear Pelham; every thing depends on the crisis."

"Are you certain of the cabinet?" I asked.

"Yes; it is not yet publicly announced, but it is fully known amongst
us, who comes in, and who stays out. I am to have the place of--."

"I congratulate your lordship from my heart. What post do you design for
me?"

Lord Dawton changed countenance. "Why--really--Pelham, we have not
yet filled up the lesser appointments, but you shall be well
remembered--well, my dear Pelham, be sure of it."

I looked at the noble speaker with a glance which, I flatter myself, is
peculiar to me. If, thought I, the embryo minister is playing upon me as
upon one of his dependant characters; if he dares forget what he owes
to my birth and zeal, I will grind myself to powder but I will shake him
out of his seat. The anger of the moment passed away.

"Lord Dawton," said I, "one word, and I have done discussing my claims
for the present. Do you mean to place me in Parliament as soon as you
are in the cabinet? What else you intend for me, I question not."

"Yes, assuredly, Pelham. How can you doubt it?"

"Enough!--and now read this letter from France."

Two days after my interview with Lord Dawton, as I was riding leisurely
through the Green Park, in no very bright and social mood, one of the
favoured carriages, whose owners are permitted to say, "Hic iter est
nobis," overtook me. A sweet voice ordered the coachman to stop, and
then addressed itself to me.

"What, the hero of Chester Park returned, without having once narrated
his adventures tome?"

"Beautiful Lady Roseville," said I, "I plead guilty of negligence--not
treason. I forgot, it is true, to appear before you, but I forget not
the devotion of my duty now that I behold you. Command, and I obey."

"See, Ellen," said Lady Roseville, turning to a bending and blushing
countenance beside her, which I then first perceived--"See what it is
to be a knight errant; even his language,