rt,
than on Lord Dawton's--and, in a word, that there was no relying upon
you. Lord Dawton then took courage, and chimed in with a long panegyric
on V--, and a long account of what was due to him, and to the zeal
of his family, adding, that in a crisis like this, it was absolutely
necessary to engage a certain, rather than a doubtful and undecided
support; that, for his part, if he placed you in parliament, he thought
you quite as likely to prove a foe as a friend; that, owing to the
marriage of your uncle, your expectations were by no means commensurate
with your presumption, and that the same talents which made your claims
to favour, as an ally, created also no small danger in placing you in
any situation where you could become hurtful as an enemy. All this,
and much more to the same purpose, was strenuously insisted upon by the
worthy pair; and your friend was obliged to take his leave, perfectly
convinced that, unless you assumed a more complaisant bearing, or gave
a more decided pledge, to the new minister, it was hopeless for you to
expect any thing from him, at least, for the present. The fact is, he
stands too much in awe of you, and would rather keep you out of the
House than contribute an iota towards obtaining you a seat. Upon all
this, you may rely as certain."

"I thank you from my heart," said I, warmly, seizing and pressing Lady
Roseville's hand. "You tell me what I have long suspected; I am now upon
my guard, and they shall find that I can offend as well as defend. But
it is no time for me to boast; oblige me by informing me of the name of
my unknown friend; I little thought there was a being in the world who
would stir three steps for Henry Pelham."

"'That friend," replied Lady Roseville, with a faltering voice and a
glowing cheek, "was Sir Reginald Glanville."

"What!" cried I, "repeat the name to me again, or--" I paused, and
recovered myself. "Sir Reginald Glanville," I resumed haughtily, "is too
gracious to enter into my affairs. I must be strangely altered if I need
the officious zeal of any intermeddler to redress my wrongs."

"Nay, Mr. Pelham," said the countess, hastily, "you do Glanville--you do
yourself injustice. For him, there never passes a day in which he does
not mention you with the highest encomiums and the most affectionate
regard. He says, of late, that you have altered towards him, but that he
does not blame you--he never mentions the cause; if I am not intruding,
suffer me to i