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He found that gentleman in the solitary tea-room, pacing up and down before the observant landlady and handmaidens of the “Gorgon Arms,” wiping his brows, gnawing his fingers–his ears looming over his stiff white shirt-collar as red as fire. Once more the great man seized John Perkins’s hand as the latter came up.

“D—- the aristocrats!” roared the ex-follower of Squaretoes.

“And so say I! but what’s the matter, sir?”

“What’s the matter?–Why, that woman–that infernal, haughty, straitlaced, cold-blooded brewer’s daughter! I loved that woman, sir–I KISSED that woman, sir, twenty years ago: we were all but engaged, sir: we’ve walked for hours and hours, sir–us and the governess–I’ve got a lock of her hair, sir, among my papers now; and to-night, would you believe it?–as soon as she got to the bottom of the set, away she went–not one word would she speak to me all the way down: and when I wanted to lead her to her place, and asked her if she would have a glass of negus, ‘Sir,’ says she, ‘I have done my duty; I bear no malice: but I consider you a traitor to Sir George Gorgon’s family–a traitor and an upstart! I consider your speaking to me as a piece of insolent vulgarity, and beg you will leave me to myself!’ There’s her speech, sir. Twenty people heard it, and all of her Tory set too. I’ll tell you what, Jack: at the next election I’ll put YOU up. Oh that woman! that woman!–and to think that I love her still!” Here Mr. Scully paused, and fiercely consoled himself by swallowing three cups of Mrs. Rincer’s green tea.

The fact is, that Lady Gorgon’s passion had completely got the better of her reason. Her Ladyship was naturally cold, and artificially extremely squeamish; and when this great red-faced enemy of hers looked tenderly at her through his red little eyes, and squeezed her hand and attempted to renew old acquaintance, she felt such an intolerable disgust at his triumph, at his familiarity, and at the remembrance of her own former liking for him, that she gave utterance to the speech above correctly reported. The Tories were delighted with her spirit, and Cornet Fitch, with much glee, told the story to the General; but that officer, who was at whist with some of his friends, flung down his cards, and coming up to his lady, said briefly,–

“Madam, you are a fool!”

“I will NOT stay here to be bearded by that disgusting man!–Mr. Fitch, call my people.–Henrietta, bring Miss Lucy from that linendraper with whom she is dancing. I will not stay, General, once for all.”

Henrietta ran–she hated her cousin: Cornet Fitch was departing. “Stop, Fitch,” said Sir George, seizing him by the arm. “You are a fool, Lady Gorgon,” said he, “and I repeat it–a —- fool! This fellow Scully is carrying all before him: he has talked with everybody, laughed with everybody–and you, with your infernal airs–a brewer’s daughter, by —-, must sit like a queen and not speak to a soul! You’ve lost me one seat of my borough, with your infernal pride–fifteen hundred a year, by Jove!–and you think you will bully me out of another. No, madam, you SHALL stay, and stay supper too;–and the girls shall dance with every cursed chimney-sweep and butcher in the room: they shall–confound me!”

Her Ladyship saw that it was necessary to submit; and Mr. Springer, the master of the ceremonies, was called, and requested to point out some eligible partners for the young ladies. One went off with a Whig auctioneer; another figured in a quadrille with a very Liberal apothecary; and the third, Miss Henrietta, remained.

“Hallo you, sir!” roared the little General to John Perkins, who was passing by. John turned round and faced him.

“You were dancing with my niece just now–show us your skill now, and dance with one of my daughters. Stand up, Miss Henrietta Gorgon–Mr. What’s-your-name?”