your rival, I
hinted at my suspicion that he, Captain Clifford, might not
impossibly prove this Rinaldo Rinaldini of the roads. Nabbem caught
at my hint at once; so that, if it be founded on a true guess, I may
flatter my conscience as well as my friendship by the hope that I
have had some hand in hanging this Adonis of my niece's. Whether my
guess be true or not, Nabbem says he is sure of this Lovett; for one
of his gang has promised to betray him. Hang these aspiring dogs!
I thought treachery was confined to politics; and that thought makes
me turn to public matters, in which all people are turning with the
most edifying celerity...."

Sir William Brandon's epistle found Mauleverer in a fitting mood for
Lucy and for London. Our worthy peer had been not a little chagrined by
Lucy's sudden departure from Bath; and while in doubt whether or not
to follow her, the papers had informed him of the squire's death.
Mauleverer, being then fully aware of the impossibility of immediately
urging his suit, endeavoured, like the true philosopher he was, to
reconcile himself to his hope deferred. Few people were more easily
susceptible of consolation than Lord Mauleverer. He found an agreeable
lady, of a face more unfaded than her reputation, to whom he intrusted
the care of relieving his leisure moments from ennui; and being a lively
woman, the confidante discharged the trust with great satisfaction to
Lord Mauleverer, for the space of a fortnight, so that he naturally
began to feel his love for Lucy gradually wearing away, by absence and
other ties; but just as the triumph of time over passion was growing
decisive, the lady left Bath in company with a tall guardsman, and
Mauleverer received Brandon's letter. These two events recalled our
excellent lover to a sense of his allegiance; and there being now
at Bath no particular attraction to counterbalance the ardour of his
affection, Lord Mauleverer ordered the horses to his carriage, and
attended only by his valet, set out for London.

Nothing, perhaps, could convey a better portrait of the world's spoiled
darling than a sight of Lord Mauleverer's thin, fastidious
features, peering forth through the closed window of his luxurious
travelling-chariot; the rest of the outer man being carefully enveloped
in furs, half-a-dozen novels strewing the seat of the carriage, and a
lean French dog, exceedingly like its master, sniffing in vai