turned my gaze to my own mean dress.—­Whence sprung this difference?  Whence but from ingratitude, from falsehood, from a dereliction on the part of the prince’s father, of all noble sympathy and generous feeling.  Doubtless, he also, whose blood received a mingling tide from his proud mother—­he, the acknowledged focus of the kingdom’s wealth and nobility, had been taught to repeat my father’s name with disdain, and to scoff at my just claims to protection.  I strove to think that all this grandeur was but more glaring infamy, and that, by planting his gold-enwoven flag beside my tarnished and tattered banner, he proclaimed not his superiority, but his debasement.  Yet I envied him.  His stud of beautiful horses, his arms of costly workmanship, the praise that attended him, the adoration, ready servitor, high place and high esteem,—­I considered them as forcibly wrenched from me, and envied them all with novel and tormenting bitterness.

To crown my vexation of spirit, Perdita, the visionary Perdita, seemed to awake to real life with transport, when she told me that the Earl of Windsor was about to arrive.

“And this pleases you?” I observed, moodily.

“Indeed it does, Lionel,” she replied; “I quite long to see him; he is the descendant of our kings, the first noble of the land:  every one admires and loves him, and they say that his rank is his least merit; he is generous, brave, and affable.”

“You have learnt a pretty lesson, Perdita,” said I, “and repeat it so literally, that you forget the while the proofs we have of the Earl’s virtues; his generosity to us is manifest in our plenty, his bravery in the protection he affords us, his affability in the notice he takes of us.  His rank his least merit, do you say?  Why, all his virtues are derived from his station only; because he is rich, he is called generous; because he is powerful, brave; because he is well served, he is affable.  Let them call him so, let all England believe him to be thus—­we know him—­he is our enemy—­our penurious, dastardly, arrogant enemy; if he were gifted with one particle of the virtues you call his, he would do justly by us, if it were only to shew, that if he must strike, it should not be a fallen foe.  His father injured my father—­his father, unassailable on his throne, dared despise him who only stooped beneath himself, when he deigned to associate with the royal ingrate.  We, descendants from the one and the other, must be enemies also.  He shall find that I can feel my injuries; he shall learn to dread my revenge!”

A few days after he arrived.  Every inhabitant of the most miserable cottage, went to swell the stream of population that poured forth to meet him:  even Perdita, in spite of my late philippic, crept near the highway, to behold this idol of all hearts.  I, driven half mad, as I met party after party of the country people, in their holiday best, descending the hills, escaped to their cloud-veiled summits,