“Which does not look as if she were coming back within the year,” said Betty, as she poured me a dish of tea.

Alas, no!  But I did not write.  I tried and failed.  And then I tried to forget.  I was constant at all the gayeties, gave every miss in town a share of my attention, rode to hounds once a week at Whitehall or the South River Club with a dozen young beauties.  But cantering through the winter mists ’twas Dolly, in her red riding-cloak and white beaver, I saw beside me.  None of them had her seat in the saddle, and none of them her light hand on the reins.  And tho’ they lacked not fire and skill, they had not my lady’s dash and daring to follow over field and fallow, stream and searing, and be in at the death with heightened colour, but never a look away.

Then came the first assembly of the year.  I got back from Bentley Manor, where I had been a-visiting the Fotheringays, just in time to call for Patty in Gloucester Street.

“Have you heard the news from abroad, Richard?” she asked, as I handed her into my chariot.

“Never a line,” I replied.

“Pho!” exclaimed Patty; “you tell me that!  Where have you been hiding?  Then you shall not have it from me.”

I had little trouble, however, in persuading her.  For news was a rare luxury in those days, and Patty was plainly uncomfortable until she should have it out.

“I would not give you the vapours to-night for all the world, Richard,” she exclaimed.  “But if you must,—­Dr. Courtenay has had a letter from Mr. Manners, who says that Dolly is to marry his Grace of Chartersea.  There now!”

“And I am not greatly disturbed,” I answered, with a fine, careless air.

The lanthorn on the chariot was burning bright.  And I saw Patty look at me, and laugh.

“Indeed!” says she; “what a sex is that to which you belong.  How ready are men to deny us at the first whisper!  And I thought you the most constant of all.  For my part, I credit not a word of it.  ’Tis one of Mr. Marmaduke’s lies and vanities.”

“And for my part, I think it true as gospel,” I cried.  “Dolly always held a coronet above her colony, and all her life has dreamed of a duke.”

“Nay,” answered Patty, more soberly; “nay, you do her wrong.  You will discover one day that she is loyal to the core, tho’ she has a fop of a father who would serve his Grace’s chocolate.  We are all apt to talk, my dear, and to say what we do not mean, as you are doing.”

“Were I to die to-morrow, I would repeat it,” I exclaimed.  But I liked Patty the better for what she had said.

“And there is more news, of less import,” she continued, as I was silent.  “The Thunderer dropped anchor in the roads to-day, and her officers will be at the assembly.  And Betty tells me there is a young lord among them,—­la!  I have clean forgot the string of adjectives she used,—­but she would have had me know he was as handsome as Apollo, and so dashing and diverting as to put Courtenay and all our wits to shame.  She dined with him at the Governor’s.”