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head as on a throne. He had, as it were, an awe of himself; his thoughts were so many mirrors of Viscount Borodaile dressed en dieu. His mind was a little Versailles, in which self sat like Louis XIV., and saw nothing but pictures of its self, sometimes as Jupiter and sometimes as Apollo. What marvel then, that Lord Borodaile was a very unpleasant companion? for every human being he had "something of contempt." His eye was always eloquent in disdaining; to the plebeian it said, "You are not a gentleman;" to the prince, "You are not Lord Borodaile." Yet, with all this, he had his good points. He was brave as a lion; strictly honourable; and though very ignorant, and very self-sufficient, had that sort of dogged good sense which one very often finds in men of stern hearts, who, if they have many prejudices, have little feeling, to overcome. Very stiffly and very haughtily did Lord Borodaile draw up, when Clarence approached and addressed Lady Flora; much more stiffly and much more haughtily did he return, though with old-fashioned precision of courtesy, Clarence's bow, when Lady Westborough introduced them to each other. Not that this hauteur was intended as a particular affront: it was only the agreeability of his lordship's general manner. "Are you engaged?" said Clarence to Flora. "I am, at present, to Lord Borodaile." "After him, may I hope?" Lady Flora nodded assent, and disappeared with Lord Borodaile. His Royal Highness the Duke of ---- came up to Lady Westborough; and Clarence, with a smiling countenance and an absent heart, plunged into the crowd. There he met Lord Aspeden, in conversation with the Earl of Holdenworth, one of the administration. "Ah, Linden," said the diplomatist, "let me introduce you to Lord Holdenworth,--a clever young man, my dear lord, and plays the flute beautifully." With this eulogium, Lord Aspeden glided away; and Lord Holdenworth, after some conversation with Linden, honoured him by an invitation to dinner the next day. CHAPTER XXXIII. 'T is true his nature may with faults abound; But who will cavil when the heart is sound?--STEPHEN MONTAGUE. Dum vitant stulti vitia, in contraria currant.-HORACE. ["The foolish while avoiding vice run into the opposite extremes."] The next day Sir Christopher Findlater called on Clarence. "Let us lounge in the park," said he. "With pleasure," replied Clarence; and into the park they lounged. By the way the
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