CHAPTER CI.

THE BLACKAMOOR'S STRANGE ADVENTURE.

It was about nine o'clock in the evening of the same day on which the above-recorded interview took place between the Earl of Ellingham and Lady Hatfield, that the Blackamoor, clad in a very plain—almost a mean attire, sauntered along Pall Mall West, and stopped for a few moments in front of the nobleman's house.

He gazed wistfully at the windows—murmured something to himself—uttered a sigh—and passed on.

His appearance attracted the notice of two gentlemen who were walking arm-in-arm in the same direction; and, as they examined him more closely by the light of an adjacent lamp, one said to the other, "Since his Majesty has taken it into his head to have a black servant, I really think that the very man to suit the purpose is now before us. He is a well-made, good-looking fellow."

"My dear Warren," said the gentleman thus addressed, "you are positively absurd with your notions that you have only to _ask_ in a King's name in order to _have_. How do you know that this man wants a situation?"

"He looks as if he did, Harral," replied Sir Phillip Warren. "See—he lounges along as if he had no fixed object in view—his clothes do not appear to be any of the best—and his whole demeanour gives me the idea of a lacquey out of place."

"My dear friend," whispered Sir Randolph Harral—who, like his companion, was one of the King's courtiers, "you are really wrong. That man is something far superior to what you conceive him to be: there is even an air of subdued gentility about him——"

"Pooh! pooh! Harral," interrupted Sir Phillip Warren: "you do not understand these matters so well as I do. At all events there is no harm in questioning that fellow—for I should rejoice to be able to fulfil to-night a whim which our royal master only expressed this afternoon when he saw the French Ambassador's splendid black _chasseur_."

"Well, as you please, Warren," observed Sir Randolph Harral: "but as I do not wish to get myself knocked down for insulting a person of a superior class to what you imagine, I shall leave you to pursue the adventure alone."

This conversation had been carried on so close to the Blackamoor, that, although the two courtiers had spoken in a very low voice, and had not of course intended that their remarks should be overheard, yet scarcely a word had escaped his ears. Affecting, however, all the time to continue his lounging, listless walk, he took no apparent notice of the gentlemen behind him, and even pretended to start with surprise when Sir Phillip Warren—Sir Randolph Harral having re-entered Carlton House—tapped him on the shoulder.

"My good man," said the courtier, in a patronising fashion, "I wish to have a few moments' conversation with you."

"Certainly, sir," exclaimed the Blackamoor, touching his hat just like a lacquey, and assuming the tone and manner of one.

"I thought so—I knew I was right?" exclaimed Sir Phillip, rubbing his hands in proof of his satisfaction; then, attentively scanning the Black from head to foot, by the aid of the lamp at the door of a neighbouring mansion, he said in a less excited tone, "I suspect you, my good fellow, to be a person in search of employment——"

"Yes—sir," interrupted the Blackamoor, now enjoying the farce that he was playing; "I should very much like to obtain a good situation, and can obtain a first-rate character from my late master."

"The very thing!" cried Sir Phillip Warren, hugely delighted at the opportunity of crowing over his friend Sir Randolph Harral: then, once more addressing himself to the Black, he said, "Now what should you think if I proposed to you to enter the household of his most gracious Majesty?"

"I should be afraid that the offer was too good to be realized, sir," was the answer, delivered in a tone of deep respect; although the Blackamoor was laughing in his sleeve the whole time.

"It all depends upon me, my good fellow," said Sir Phillip: "and if _I_ am satisfied with you, the matter is settled immediately. But we cannot continue to talk in the open street: so follow me to my own apartments in the palace."

Thus speaking, the courtier led the way to Carlton House, the Blackamoor following at a respectful distance, and saying to himself, "What object I propose to myself in embracing this adventure, I know not. It, however, tickles my fancy, and I will go on with it. Besides, having an hour to spare, I may as well divert myself in this way as any other."

Accordingly, he followed Sir Phillip Warren into the royal dwelling; and in strict silence did they proceed, until they reached an ante-room leading to a suite of apartments which were occupied by the old courtier. In that ante-room they stopped; for Sir Phillip was immediately accosted by his valet, who, starting from a seat in which he had been dozing, said, "If you please, sir, his Majesty has sent twice, during the last half-hour, to desire your presence."

"Very good, Gregory," exclaimed Sir Phillip: "I will attend to the royal command this moment; and do you take the present of hot-house fruit at once to my sister, Lady Maltoun. Her ladyship requires it for her grand supper to-night. Tell her that I am enabled to send it through the goodness of my royal master."

"Yes, sir," answered the valet, and instantly took his departure.

"My good fellow," said Sir Phillip Warren, turning towards the Blackamoor, "you perceive that it is impossible for me to speak to you at present. You must sit down and wait patiently until my return. I shall not be very long away; but, in any case, wait!"

Sir Phillip Warren, having issued these injunctions, hastened into the inner apartments to amend his toilette after his evening's stroll; and in a short time he came forth again, with knee-breeches and silk stockings, all ready to attend upon the king. In passing through the ante-chamber he repeated his command that the Black should await his return; and the latter promised to obey.

When left alone, this individual seated himself, and gave way to his reflections, forgetting for a time where he was. At length he started up, looked at his watch, and found that upwards of half-an-hour had elapsed since the old courtier had left him. He was already wearied of waiting; but a natural love of adventure and of the excitement of novelty induced him to remain a little longer to see the issue of the affair which had led him thither. He accordingly whiled away another half hour with a newspaper which lay on the table; and, that interval having passed, he began to think of taking his departure without farther delay.

Issuing from the ante-room, he proceeded along a well-lighted corridor, from the extremity of which branched off two smaller passages, one to the right, and the other to the left. The Blackamoor was now at a loss which path to pursue; for he could not, for the life of him, remember by which passage the old courtier had led him on his arrival an hour previously.

He was not, however, a man at all capable of hesitating to explore even a royal palace, in order to find a mode of egress, when it did not suit him to wait for the return of his guide: and taking the passage to the right, he hastened on until he reached a pair of colossal folding doors. Perfectly recollecting to have passed through those doors on his arrival—or at all events through folding-doors exactly like them—he pushed them open, and entered a large ante-room, well lighted, and containing four marble statues as large as life.

"Now," thought the Blackamoor, "I am mistaken; for I do not remember to have seen those statues as I followed the old gentleman into the palace just now. And yet I might have passed through this room without noticing them. At all events, I well recollect those large and splendid folding-doors; and so I must be right."

It happened, however, that he was altogether wrong in the path which he had pursued in order to find an egress from the palace; and he was deceived by the fact that at each end of the long passage, from the middle of which the corridor branched off, there were folding-doors of an uniform shape, size, and appearance. But, conceiving himself to be in the right road, he crossed the ante-room, and, pushing open a door at the farther extremity, found himself in a magnificent apartment, the furniture of which was of the French fashion of King Louis the Fifteenth's time. The hangings and drapery were of crimson velvet, of which material the cushions of the chairs and the sofas were also made. Several fine pictures, by old masters, and vast mirrors with elaborately decorated frames, graced the walls; and the whole was displayed by a rich, subdued, golden lustre, diffused throughout the room by lamps, the globes of which were of very thick ground glass. It was a mellow light, sufficient, yet without glare—misty, without being positively dim—and calculated to produce a lulling sensation of voluptuous indolence, rather than to dazzle the eyes with a wakeful brilliancy. In fact, there was altogether something ineffably luxurious in the general appearance of this apartment, which was magnificent without being spacious, and the perfumed atmosphere of which stole like a delicious languor on the senses.

The Blackamoor forgot for a few moments that he was an intruder—or, if he remembered the fact, he was indifferent to it: and, though the instant he entered this apartment he saw that he had indeed taken a wrong path, yet he could not help advancing farther into it to admire its sumptuous elegance and fine pictures. He was thus gratifying his curiosity, when he heard voices in the ante-room through which he had just passed; and, obeying a natural impulse, he slipped behind the rich velvet curtains drawn over the immense window, near which he happened to be standing at the moment.

The door opened, and two persons entered the apartment.

"I will await her here, Warren," said one, in a commanding and triumphant tone: "and see that during our interview, we are secured against interruption of any kind."

"Your Majesty shall be obeyed," answered Sir Phillip. "Have you any farther orders, sire?"

"None, my faithful friend," returned the King. "Stay—have I the document?"

"I gave it to your Majesty ere now, after having myself fetched it from the Home Office," said the courtier.

"True! I have it safe," said George the Fourth. "And now hasten to receive the fair one, Warren: it is past ten o'clock, and I am impatient to behold her charming countenance again."

Sir Phillip departed; and the King, throwing himself upon one of the voluptuous ottomans, exclaimed aloud, "Now for a new pleasure! I know not how it was, but I never before took so sudden and ardent a fancy for any woman, as for this Georgiana Hatfield. There is something truly bewitching—ineffably captivating in her sweet countenance; and the calm repose which characterises the general expression of that face, has for me an influence profoundly voluptuous. Then her bust—oh! her bust—_that_ is charming indeed,—so full—so richly proportioned—and yet evidently so firm! She has never been married, and Warren says that her reputation is untarnished. It will be a luxury of paradise to revel in her virgin charms. And yet, somehow or other, the joys of love are not generally unknown to ladies in the fashionable world who have reached the age of four or five and twenty. No matter! be she virgin or not, she is an adorable woman; and I am madly impatient for her coming."

The King rose from the ottoman, and walked slowly across the apartment, stopping opposite a mirror in which he surveyed himself. His admirably fashioned wig was entirely to his taste: there was not a curl nor a wave which he could have wished otherwise than it was. His false teeth were white, fixed firmly in his mouth, and had a perfectly natural appearance. The tie of his cravat—borrowed from the fashion set by his once all-powerful favourite, Beau Brummell—was unexceptionable. The white waistcoat had not a crease, so perfectly did it fit the portly form of the royal voluptuary. The above-mentioned Beau Brummell could not, even in his ire against the King, have found the shadow of an excuse for a cavil against the black dress-coat, so artistically was it made. No tailor in the famous city of Paris could have achieved a greater triumph in respect to the pantaloons: and as for the polished dress-boots——O immortal Hoby!

Well satisfied with the result of his survey, George the Fourth returned to the ottoman, and relapsed into a train of voluptuous imagings with respect to Lady Hatfield. This current of thought, whereby, in his emasculated old age, he endeavoured to invigorate his physical powers through the medium of an excited and heated imagination, led him to reflect upon all the beauteous women—and their name was Legion—who had ever surrendered themselves to his embraces; and his ideas naturally wandered to the enjoyments, luxuries, and pleasures which his exalted rank and immense resources enabled him to procure. Then he chuckled with triumphant delight at the egregious folly of the great and powerful English people tolerating a King at all. But he likewise knew that his own conduct and example had done more harm to the cause of Monarchy than all the republic pamphlets or democratic disquisitions ever published. He was well aware that, without intending to be so, he was the most effectual means of opening the eyes of the civilised world to the insanity and madness of maintaining monarchical institutions: and, though he foresaw that the industrious millions of this realm must inevitably, sooner or later, overthrow Monarchy and establish a pure Democracy, yet he consoled himself, in his revolting selfishness, with the conviction that "the throne would last during his time, at all events."

It was about half-past ten, when the door opened; and the Blackamoor, peeping from behind the curtains, beheld a lady, closely veiled, enter the room, the door immediately closing behind her.

"Adorable Georgiana!" exclaimed the King, hastening forward to receive her, and then conducting her to a seat: "I am rejoiced that you have thus yielded to my wishes—that you have come to me this evening."

"But wherefore, sire, did you insist upon this visit?" asked Lady Hatfield, in a low and tremulous tone. "Our compact stipulated that I was first to receive a certain document, as a proof of your Majesty's sincerity——"

"Dearest Georgiana, raise that odious veil—lay aside that invidious bonnet, which conceals your charming countenance!" exclaimed the monarch, in an impassioned voice.

"Oh! sire, I have taken a step at which I tremble," said Lady Hatfield, raising her veil, but retaining her bonnet. "On my way through the corridors, guided by Sir Phillip Warren, I met two or three of your Majesty's retainers; and if they recognised me—in spite of the thick veil——"

"Fear not on that account," interrupted the King. "I admit our compact was as you just now stated it to be, and that the paper should have been forwarded to you. But I was so anxious to see you soon again, that I could not resist the temptation of that idea which suggested to me how much better it would be to solicit you to come hither this evening and receive from my hands the document which you so much desire. Here it is, beloved Georgiana—signed by myself, and countersigned by the Secretary of State."

The King presented the paper to Lady Hatfield, who received it with joy flashing from her eyes: and she immediately secured it about her person.

"My curiosity prompts me to ask an explanation of the extraordinary contents of that document," said the monarch; "but, on the other hand, delicacy forbids."

"And I thank you for this delicacy, sire," exclaimed Lady Hatfield, with earnest sincerity. "It were a long tale to tell—and an useless one——"

"Yes—useless, indeed, when we have a far more interesting topic for our discourse," interrupted George the Fourth, throwing one of his arms round the lady's neck.

"Sire!" cried Georgiana in a reproachful tone, as she hastily withdrew herself from that half-embrace, and retreated to the further end of the ottoman.

"Oh! wherefore play the coy and the cruel?" exclaimed the King. "Have I not given you a signal proof of my attachment, by affixing my signature to a paper the contents of which I scarcely understand, and by ordering the Minister to legalize it with his name? And think you, sweet lady, that it was an easy task to induce that responsible functionary to obey me in this respect? But I menaced and coaxed by turns; and all this for your sake! Do I not, therefore, deserve the reward of your smiles—the recompense of your caresses?"

"I recognise all that is generous in the conduct of your Majesty towards me in respect to this document," said Lady Hatfield: "but were I to succumb to you now, sire, I should loathe myself—I should become degraded in my own estimation—I should feel that I had been purchased by a bribe! No—sire: I cannot renounce every consideration of purity—every sentiment of propriety, in a single moment."

"What further proof do you require of my attachment?" demanded the King, in a tone of vexation which he could not altogether subdue.

"No other proof, save your forbearance on this occasion," answered Georgiana. "Remember, sire, what I told you the other night: I am not a woman of impure imagination—no—nor of depraved character; and I cannot consent to become your mistress, without a mental effort on my part—without wooing on your's. In yielding myself to your Majesty, it will be as a wife who is forced to dispense with the ceremony which alone can make her one in reality; and if your Majesty deem me worth the winning, let me be won by means of those delicate attentions which would be shown in honourable courtship."

"Perdition!" ejaculated the King, who was as much unaccustomed to hear such language as he was to sue at the feet of beauty: "how long will you keep me in this suspense, fair lady?—how long must I endure the tortures of deferred hope? Consider—I love you madly: you are so beautiful—so sweetly beautiful! Oh! to press you in my arms——"

"Pardon me, sire, for daring to interrupt you," said Georgiana; "but if there be nothing save the impulse of the senses in this _liaison_ of ours, your Majesty will soon become wearied of me—and I shrink in horror from the idea of becoming the cast-off mistress of even Royalty itself. Let me seek to engage your affections, as you must endeavour to enchain mine; so that our connexion may be based upon the sentiments and feelings of the heart."

"But I already love you sincerely—devotedly, cruel Georgiana!" cried the King, his eyes greedily running over the outlines of the exquisitely proportioned form of the lady, and the rapid survey exciting his desire almost beyond endurance.

"Not with a love calculated to be permanent," said Georgiana quietly; "and unless I become the object of such an affection, never—never shall I so far forget myself——"

"This is cruel—this is maddening!" exclaimed the King; and he extended his arms towards Lady Hatfield.

"Sire, do not treat me with outrage," she said, rising from the ottoman, and speaking in a dignified manner. "If your Majesty supposed that your sovereign rank would so far dazzle my imagination as to make me throw myself into your arms at the very first words of encouragement which fell from your lips, your Majesty has sadly misunderstood the character of Georgiana Hatfield."

"Be not angry with me, adorable creature!" exclaimed the King: "I love you too much to risk the chance of losing you by any misconduct on my part. Name, therefore, your own terms. Or rather, let me ask whether you will consent to visit me every evening for an hour, and allow us an opportunity to become better acquainted with each other?"

"Now your Majesty speaks in a manner calculated to win my esteem," observed Lady Hatfield, avoiding a direct reply to the question put to her; "and when the esteem of a woman is once secured——"

"I understand you," interrupted George the Fourth, hastily: "her love speedily follows. Be it as you say, sweet lady," he continued, in a slower tone; "and let us secure each other's affections. You shall find me docile and obedient to your will—and this is much for _me_ to promise. But let me hope that the period of probation will not be long—that the hour of recompense is not far distant——"

"Hush, sire!" exclaimed Georgiana, in a reproachful voice: "this is the language of sense—whereas you must secure my affections by the language of sentiment. If you treat me as a woman who is to be purchased as your mistress, let our connexion cease this moment: but if you will woo me as a wife should be won—although I am well aware that your Majesty's wife I can never be——"

"Would that I could marry you this moment!" cried the King, fixing his eyes upon her beauteous countenance; "for you are ravishingly lovely! I would give a year of my life to obtain all I crave this night. Oh! Georgiana, be not so coy and cruel with me—for you madden me—my veins seem to run with molten lead. Be mine at once—and render my happiness complete. Behold that small low door in yonder corner: it opens into a room which may serve as our nuptial chamber. Come, then, dearest Georgiana—let me lead you thither—not cold, hesitating, and resisting—but warm, and impassioned, and prepared to revel in the delights of love! Our privacy will be complete: no intruder need we fear;—and the world will never know that you have become mine."

"Sire, this language on your part—in spite of all the arguments and remonstrances which I have used," exclaimed Lady Hatfield, "is unworthy of a great King and a polished gentleman."

"The madness of love knows nothing of regal rank nor the shackles of etiquette," said the monarch, speaking in a tone of great excitement; "and, in spite of the promises which I just now so rashly made, I cannot endure delay. No—sweetest lady—you must be mine at once!"—and he wound his arms around Georgiana's form, the fury of his desires animating him with a strength against which she could not long have resisted.

But at that moment succour was at hand!

Forth from his place of concealment sprang the Blackamoor; and an ejaculation of surprise and rage burst from the lips of the King, while a cry of joy emanated from those of Lady Hatfield.

"Who are you? and what signifies this intrusion?" demanded George the Fourth, instantly releasing his intended victim at this sudden apparition.

But, without answering the monarch, the Blackamoor hastily led the half-fainting Lady Hatfield to the door—opened it to allow her to pass out of the room—and, closing it behind her, placed his back against it,—the whole being effected with such speed, that Georgiana had disappeared before the King could recover from the astonishment into which the very first step of the bold proceeding had thrown him.

"Villainous negro!" cried the disappointed monarch, at length recovering the power of speech: "do you know who I am, that you have thus dared to outrage me?"

"I know full well who you are, sire—and I am grieved to the very soul at the idea of being compelled to acknowledge you as my King," returned the Black, in a calm—collected—and somewhat mournful tone.

"This insolence to me!" ejaculated George the Fourth, becoming purple with rage. "Make way, sirrah, for me to pass hence!"

"Not until I have allowed Lady Hatfield sufficient time to escape from this house which the country has given as a palace for your Majesty, but which seems to be used for purposes too vile to contemplate without horror," was the firm reply.

The King fell back a few paces in speechless astonishment. Never before had he been thus bearded:—but in that momentary interval of silence, a crowd of recollections rushed to his mind, warning him that the individual who thus seemed to defy his rank and power, had been present during the whole of the interview with Lady Hatfield,—and that this individual had learnt how the Royal and Ministerial signatures had been given as a means of propitiating a coy beauty, without any reference to the interests of the State:—when the King remembered all this, he was alarmed at the serious manner in which he suddenly found himself compromised. For that Blackamoor could make revelations of a nature to arouse against him the indignation of the whole kingdom; and, reckless as George the Fourth was of public opinion, he trembled at the idea of exciting public resentment.

Thus did a few moments of reflection show him the precipice on which he stood, and carry to his mind a conviction of the necessity of making terms with the sable stranger who had obtained such a dangerous power over him. But the mere thought of such a compromise was sorely repugnant to the haughty spirit of George the Fourth: and yet there was no alternative! He accordingly addressed himself with the best grace he could assume, to the task of conciliation.

"My good sir," he said, approaching the Black, "I seek not to deal harshly with you: and yet you owe me an explanation of the motives which induced you to penetrate into the palace, and the means by which you gained access to my private apartments."

"I feel bound to answer your Majesty with candour and frankness, in order to clear myself from any injurious suspicion which my concealment in this room might naturally engender," was the reply. "The explanation, sire, is briefly given:—I was accosted by an elderly gentleman in Pall Mall, and asked if I required a situation. In truth I do not; but it being intimated to me that the proffered place was in the royal household, curiosity prompted me to follow the gentleman into the palace. He left me alone in his ante-room for upwards of an hour; and, growing weary of waiting, I sought a means of egress. But, losing my way, I found myself at length in this room; and almost immediately afterwards your Majesty entered with the very gentleman I am speaking of, and whose name I learnt to be Warren. I concealed myself behind the curtains—with no bad intention; and indeed I was about to come forth and explain the reasons of my presence to your Majesty, when certain words which fell from your Majesty's lips made me acquainted with the fact that Lady Hatfield was expected here every moment. That name nailed me to the spot—and I was prompted by an uncontrollable curiosity to wait and satisfy myself whether Lady Hatfield could have become so depraved as to surrender herself to your arms."

"You are acquainted with her, then!" exclaimed the King. "And yet," he added, a moment afterwards, "she did not appear to recognise you."

"No, sire—she did not recognise me," returned the Black.

"But you must know her well, since the mere mention of her name rendered you thus anxious to see the issue of our interview?" said the King, impatiently.

"I know her well, sire," was the guarded response: "and yet she knew not me."

"Who _are_ you, then?" demanded George the Fourth, fixing a searching look upon the stranger. "You certainly are not what Sir Phillip Warren took you for——"

"I must firmly, though respectfully, decline to give any account of myself," said the Blackamoor. "Your Majesty will now permit me to withdraw."

"One moment," cried the King. "How stand we in respect to each other? Do you constitute yourself the enemy of your sovereign?—will you publish your knowledge of all that has transpired here this evening?—or can I offer you some earnest that I myself am not offended by the manner in which you ere now thought fit to address me?"

"I have no interest in making known to the public those secrets which have so accidentally been revealed to me," answered the Blackamoor. "It is never a pleasing task to an honest man to publish the frailties or failings of a fellow-creature—much less when that fellow-creature is placed at the head of the nation. As for any reward—or rather _bribe_, to induce me to remain silent, none is necessary. At the same time," he added, hastily correcting himself as a second thought struck him, "it may be as well that I should avail myself of your Majesty's offer; for it might so fall out that the privilege of claiming a boon at your royal hands——"

"May prove serviceable to you some day or another—eh?" added the King, impatiently. "Well—be it so; and, stranger though you be to me, I rely in confidence upon your solemn pledge to place a seal on your lips relative to the incidents of this night."

Thus speaking, the monarch seated himself at the nearest table, and opening a drawer, took forth writing materials: then, with a haste which showed his desire to put an end to a painful interview, he penned the following lines on a slip of paper:—

"We acknowledge a sense of deep obligation to the bearer of this memorandum, the said bearer having rendered us especial service; and we hold ourselves bound to grant him any boon which he may demand at our hands, so that it be not inconsistent with our royal honour, nor prejudicial to the interests of the State.

"Given this 3rd of March, in the year 1827.

"GEORGE REX." (L.S.)

The King lighted a taper, and affixed his royal seal to this document, which he then handed to the Blackamoor, saying, "You perceive what confidence I place in you: see that the good name of Lady Hatfield on the one side, and your Sovereign's honour on the other, be not compromised by any indiscreet revelations on your part."

"Your Majesty may rest assured that I shall maintain the incidents of this evening a profound secret, and that I shall not abuse the privilege conferred upon me by this paper which bears your royal signature."

The Blackamoor bowed, and retired from the presence of King George the Fourth, whom he left in no very pleasant humour at the turn which his meditated attack upon the virtue of Lady Hatfield had taken.

On this occasion, the Black had no difficulty in finding the way to the private staircase up which Sir Phillip Warren had originally introduced him; and he was about to issue forth from Carlton House, when he suddenly encountered that old courtier and Sir Randolph Harral in the hall.

These gentlemen were disputing in a loud tone; but the moment the Blackamoor appeared, Sir Phillip Warren sprang towards him, exclaiming, "Why, where have you possibly been? But no matter," he added, in a triumphant tone, "since you are here at length to settle the question between me and my friend."

"The fact is, my good sir," said Sir Randolph, "I have laid Sir Phillip Warren twenty guineas——"

"Yes—twenty guineas," interrupted Sir Phillip hastily, "that you are——"

"That you are _not_——" cried Sir Randolph.

"I say that you are!" exclaimed Sir Phillip.

"And I say that you are _not_!" vociferated Sir Randolph.

"Gentlemen, pray explain yourselves," said the Blackamoor.

"Well—I say that you are a lacquey out of place," observed Sir Phillip Warren.

"And I say that you are _not_," cried Sir Randolph Harral, in his turn; "whereupon we have bet twenty guineas."

"And you must decide who has won," added Sir Phillip.

"Then, gentlemen," said the Blackamoor, in a merry tone, "I can soon set the matter at rest. So far from being a lacquey out of place, I have upwards of a dozen dependants of my own. I wish you a very good night."

"Why—I am robbed as if it were on the highway!" exclaimed Sir Phillip Warren, his countenance suddenly becoming as awful and blank as such a Port-wine visage could possibly be.

"Ha! ha!" chuckled Sir Randolph: "robbed or not—please to hand me over twenty good guineas."

And the cachinnation of the winning courtier was echoed by the merry laugh of the Blackamoor, as this individual issued forth from Carlton House.

Again, as he passed along Pall Mall, did the Black pause for a few moments opposite the splendid mansion of the Earl of Ellingham, and gaze at it with the attention of no common observer. He was about to continue his way, when two men, belonging to the working class, stopped likewise for an instant in front of the house; and one said to the other, "That is where the Earl lives. God bless him!"

"Yes—God bless him!" repeated his companion, with the emphasis of unfeigned sincerity: "for he is the people's friend."

The two men then passed on.

"Who dares to say that the industrious millions have no gratitude?" murmured the Blackamoor to himself, as he also pursued his way. "O Arthur! you are now indeed worthy of the proud name which you bear: and I likewise exclaim from the very bottom of my heart, '_May God bless you!_'"