and Linden."

"Linden!" cried the duke; "I'm very glad to hear it, c'est un homme fait
expres pour moi. He is very clever, and not above playing the fool; has
humour without setting up for a wit, and is a good fellow without being
a bad man. I like him excessively."

"Lord St. George;" said Borodaile, who seemed that day to be the very
martyr of the unconscious Clarence, "I wish you good morning. I have
only just remembered an engagement which I must keep before I go to
White's."

And with a bow to the duke, and a remonstrance from Lord St. George,
Borodaile effected his escape. His complexion was, insensibly to
himself, more raised than usual, his step more stately; his mind, for
the first time for years, was fully excited and engrossed. Ah, what a
delightful thing it is for an idle man, who has been dying of ennui, to
find an enemy!

CHAPTER XLIV.

You must challenge him
There's no avoiding; one or both must drop.
BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.

"Ha! ha! ha! bravo, Linden!" cried Lord St. George, from the head of his
splendid board, in approbation of some witticism of Clarence's; and ha!
ha! ha! or he! he! he! according to the cachinnatory intonations of the
guests rang around.

"Your lordship seems unwell," said Lord Aspeden to Borodaile; "allow me
to take wine with you."

Lord Borodaile bowed his assent.

"Pray," said Mr. St. George to Clarence, "have you seen my friend Talbot
lately?"

"This very morning," replied Linden: "indeed, I generally visit him
three or four times a week; he often asks after you."

"Indeed!" said Mr. St. George, rather flattered; "he does me much
honour; but he is a distant connection of mine, and I suppose I must
attribute his recollection of me to that cause. He is a near relation of
yours, too, I think: is he not?"

"I am related to him," answered Clarence, colouring.

Lord Borodaile leaned forward, and his lip curled. Though, in some
respects, a very unamiable man, he had, as we have said, his good
points. He hated a lie as much as Achilles did; and he believed in his
heart of hearts that Clarence had just uttered one.

"Why," observed Lord Aspeden, "why, Lord Borodaile, the Talbots of
Scarsdale are branches of your genealogical tree; therefore your
lordship must be related to Linden; 'you are two cherries on one
stalk'!"

"We are by no means related," said Lord Borodaile, with a distinct and
clear voice, intended expressly for Clarence; "that is