ood
fortune to another. He therefore, with a little resentment at Lord St.
George's familiarity, coldly replied, "I am sorry that I cannot avail
myself of your offer. I am sure my way is not the same as yours."

"Then," replied Lord St. George, who was a good-natured, indolent man,
who imagined everybody was as averse to walking alone as he was, "then I
will make mine the same as yours."

Borodaile coloured: though always uncivil, he did not like to be
excelled in good manners; and therefore replied, that nothing but
extreme business at White's could have induced him to prefer his own way
to that of Lord St. George.

The good-natured peer took Lord Borodaile's arm. It was a natural
incident, but it vexed the punctilious viscount that any man should
take, not offer, the support.

"So, they say," observed Lord St. George, "that young Linden is to marry
Lady Flora Ardenne."

"Les on-dits font la gazette des fous," rejoined Borodaile with a
sneer. "I believe that Lady Flora is little likely to contract such a
misalliance."

"Misalliance!" replied Lord St. George. "I thought Linden was of a very
old family; which you know the Westboroughs are not, and he has great
expectations--"

"Which are never to be realized," interrupted Borodaile, laughing
scornfully.

"Ah, indeed!" said Lord St. George, seriously. "Well, at all events he
is a very agreeable, unaffected young man: and, by the by, Borodaile,
you will meet him chez moi to-day; you know you dine with me?"

"Meet Mr. Linden! I shall be proud to have that honour," said Borodaile,
with sparkling eyes; "will Lady Westborough be also of the party?"

"No, poor Lady St. George is very ill, and I have taken the opportunity
to ask only men."

"You have done wisely, my lord," said Borodaile, secum multa revolvens;
"and I assure you I wanted no hint to remind me of your invitation."

Here the Duke of Haverfield joined them. The duke never bowed to any
one of the male sex; he therefore nodded to Borodaile, who, with a very
supercilious formality, took off his hat in returning the salutation.
The viscount had at least this merit in his pride,--that if it was
reserved to the humble, it was contemptuous to the high: his inferiors
he wished to remain where they were; his equals he longed to lower.

"So I dine with you, Lord St. George, to-day," said the duke; "whom
shall I meet?"

"Lord Borodaile, for one," answered St. George; "my brother, Aspeden,
Findlater, Orbino,