CHAPTER IX.

"Prometheus-like, from heaven she stole The fire, that through those silken lashes In darkest glances seems to roll, From eyes that cannot hide their flashes; And as along her bosom steal In lengthened flow her raven tresses, You'd swear each clustering lock could feel, And curled to give her neck caresses."--_Byron._

About a week after this nocturnal adventure, Captain de Vere might have been seen trotting along the King's road with an orderly behind him. He reined his coal-black charger before a handsome mansion, and dismounting rung the bell--it was answered by a footman in the De Vere livery.

"Is my brother, the Earl, at home?"

"He is not, sir--but walk in, Captain de Vere--my Lord bade me ask you to wait for him--my Lord is at a _levée_, but will be home soon."

"Very well, I'll wait;--you fellow," addressing his orderly, "wait for me."

The Captain never considered how long he kept any one waiting. The door was shut, and he followed the servant up a grand flight of stairs till they arrived at Lord Wentworth's study--a warm, comfortable little room. On the escritoire in the centre of the room lay many official letters, and state papers--several blank warrants signed by authority lay on one side. On these the Captain at once glanced with an air of surprise, and ill-concealed joy--"James, bring me a bottle of wine and some glasses--and biscuits--and James, the papers."

"Immediately, sir," said the servant, leaving the room. No sooner was he gone than the Captain appropriated one of these warrants.

"He will never miss one--there are more than a dozen--it may be of use some day--nothing like two strings to one's bow," he muttered, as he folded up the warrant and put it inside his cigar-case. Scarcely had he done so ere the servant returned with the creature comforts he had ordered. "Draw the cork, and now begone with you."

"Nothing else, sir?"

"No, sirrah, nothing."

"I may as well make myself jolly," said the Captain to himself. "If Wentworth's at a _levée_ it will be a long time ere he comes back," and suiting the action to the word he drew a small chess-table to the fire: on this he placed the wine and biscuits; he then seated himself in an easy chair--placed his feet on another--and lighting a cigar began to read the papers--occasionally taking a glass of port wine with evident gusto--"Trust Bill for nabbing good wine."

Several times during the hour he awaited his brother, an observer might have seen him stride across the room to the window, which looked out on a side street running up from the sea,--make some masonic sign to some one on the opposite side, and, apparently satisfied with the result, return to his wine and newspaper.

"Curse this delay," said the Captain, striking his sword on the fender as the clock struck two.

But at the same moment the door of the apartment opened, and the Earl entered in his robes.

"Well, Jack," he exclaimed, "you make yourself comfortable."

"Always do so," was the curt reply, as he lit his third cigar.

"And have you waited long?"

"I believe you--just a mortal hour have I been here," looking at his watch--"however, I was as well here as out in the cold."

"I have been at a _levée_ or would have been here before."

"How is the Regent?"

"Never was better in his life--he seems to have renewed his youth since last summer. Is there any news? I have not seen the papers yet to-day."

"Devil a bit except Frank's battalion left in the Miranda for the Mediterranean. Egad, they'll catch it 'in the Bay of Biscay O!' if it is blowing like this," said the Captain, whistling the chorus of that song, and once more approaching the window.

"What are you looking at?" asked the Earl, after the Captain had stayed some seconds at the window, evidently regarding something with the greatest interest.

"By George--look--quick--there, she's gone!"

"What--where--who's she--where is she gone?" exclaimed the Earl, hurrying to have a sight.

"Wait a minute; she'll be back again, I'll be bound--talk of beauties--I did see a stunner."

"Where? which window?" said the Earl, who dearly loved to see a pretty face.

"There, at that window--the one with the red curtains--get your glass quick, she'll be back in a minute--make haste, here she comes--oh, Gad!"

In a moment the Earl was back, too, with an opera glass, through which he gazed at a stylish girl who stood at the opposite window, apparently unconscious that she was an object of such attention. She was about the average height--slightly inclined to embonpoint, with a full and beautiful bust. She was dressed in black silk, which, drawn tightly over her breast, showed off her figure to perfection. Her hair, black as the raven's wing, and platted in two broad bands, was drawn back behind her small, prettily-shaped ears, from which dropped sparkling pendants, and tied by a scarlet ribbon which contrasted well with the ebon locks it bound;--two tresses were suffered to escape this bandage, and waved in a _negligé_ manner over her bosom. Large lustrous eyes, fringed by long, silken lashes, and the damask hue that tinted her olive cheek betrayed the child of sunnier climes than England. Her lips had a slight pout and saucy expression, and in her hand she fluttered a fan with all the grace of an Andalusian belle.

"Let's have a look, Wentworth--you are monopolizing the glass; confound it! there, she is gone, and I have not had 'ane keek' as old Andrew would say,--hard lines, by Jove!"

"She is evidently Spanish," said the Earl, regardless of the Captain's remark.

"I know that," said he.

"How! you seem to know more of her than you would make believe?"

"Shot if I know a bit more than you do," replied the Captain, seeing his error, "any fool could see she was Spanish--she's jolly pretty, whatever she is. Egad, what eyes! I could have lit my pipe at them! Now to my mind she is a far jollier girl than even your inamorata, Ellen Ravensworth--so much passion in her eyes! 'Oh, never talk again to me of northern climes and British ladies.'"

"I hope you don't mean to compare her with Miss Ravensworth, a high born Scotch lady? Compare Ellen with a girl like that, a mere fancy girl, I'll stake high."

"Blowed if I care whether she be a fancy girl, or a fancy anything else; she has taken _my fancy_ I know, and I shall think you an uncommon fool if you don't look after her."

"I shall certainly make inquiries who and what she is. Pierre, my valet, will find out everything--he is a clever ferret."

"Egad, you're right there," answered the Captain, laughing in his sleeve at the bait taking so well. "I know Wentworth's weak point," he muttered to himself, and then said aloud, "And now, as she doesn't seem inclined to vouchsafe us another glance--what is the order of the day? Confound it! there comes that vile snow on again!"

"I have a good deal of business to transact one way and another. Ah! here's Smith, my secretary," said the Earl, as he heard a knock at the door; "Come in."

The door opened, yet it was not Smith that entered, but a tall, middle-aged gentleman, immensely stout, and still in the full vigour of health and strength. He walked like a king--and such he was, or was soon at least to be, already king in everything but name; his full ruddy face and double chin gave him a jolly aspect, and his star and garter proclaimed him to be none other than George Prince Regent.

"How are you again, my Lord Wentworth? How d'you do, my bully boy? Wild as ever, eh! De Vere?"

"May it please your Royal Highness, I never was more flourishing, and am right glad to see my Prince so hearty."

"Sit down, my Lord--sit down, Captain, no ceremony! I'll take wine," said the Regent, filling a bumper, and draining it off to their health. "Wentworth," he continued, "I sup with you to-night--is eleven too early?"

"Whatever hour suits your Royal Highness, suits me," answered the Earl.

"And look you," said the Regent, "look out some boon fellows--let's have a merry time of it. I leave that to you, De Vere: _au revoir_ till then."

The Captain attended the Prince to his favourite pony phaeton, and then ran upstairs again, put on his fur skin busby, and mounted his horse, after keeping his unlucky servant nearly two hours in the snow.

We must no longer weary our readers with further details of life at Brighton; but as we must faithfully recount not only the virtues, but the follies of our heroes, we are truly sorry to have to tell our readers that Lord Wentworth not only succeeded in finding out who the fair Spaniard (in whom we readily recognize Antonia Stacy, though under the assumed name of Juana Ferraras), was, but he also succeeded in prevailing upon the weak girl, who was taught to play her part so well, and who could not resist the temptations of a rich and handsome young peer, to accept his suit. The Earl's weak point, as the Captain judged, was the other sex, and while he blamed himself for his folly, and often wondered what Ellen Ravensworth would think if she knew all, he had not the moral courage to withstand this young girl's fascination. However, like all unhallowed affections, strong as his first admiration was, it had not the strength to stand the test of time; and the fancy, short-lived as it was violent, soon died away, and he became tired of her who had given her all for his sake. He also found it a most expensive affair, but this was not Juana's fault, but was due to the Captain's guile, who made her the medium by which he drew his brother's purse to a frightful extent, finding a little ready money was the very best means he had in his power of silencing the clamour of his creditors, and keeping brutal duns quiet. After about three weeks the Court returned to town, and the Earl and his brother hastened also to London in order to be present at the marriage of their sister Lady Edith to the Marquis of Arranmore. The ceremony, graced by the presence of royalty itself, came off with great _éclat_, and the happy pair started at once for the South of Europe, to spend their honeymoon at the Villa Reale at Naples, under a warmer sun and more genial clime than England afforded at that season. Villa Reale was one of the Earl's seats, and he insisted on his brother-in-law accepting it as his residence whilst at Naples. Captain de Vere as well as L'Estrange were charmed at first to see how well the plot turned out; they were, however, rather disconcerted--at least L'Estrange was, the Captain having another string to his bow--by the Earl's tiring so soon of the fair donna's charms. Their scheme was, if they could induce him to take her with him to Scotland, to threaten to prove a Scotch marriage. This they knew the Earl would never acknowledge, but, as it would be binding in law, Ellen Ravensworth would be left free, and probably disgusted, at her lover's faithlessness, might yet return to L'Estrange, whilst the Captain would have the better chance of succeeding to his brother's envied coronet, and still more envied fortune.