Two days after my interview with Lord Dawton, as I was riding leisurely
through the Green Park, in no very bright and social mood, one of the
favoured carriages, whose owners are permitted to say, "Hic iter est
nobis," overtook me. A sweet voice ordered the coachman to stop, and then
addressed itself to me.

"What, the hero of Chester Park returned, without having once narrated
his adventures tome?"

"Beautiful Lady Roseville," said I, "I plead guilty of negligence--not
treason. I forgot, it is true, to appear before you, but I forget not the
devotion of my duty now that I behold you. Command, and I obey."

"See, Ellen," said Lady Roseville, turning to a bending and blushing
countenance beside her, which I then first perceived--"See what it is to
be a knight errant; even his language, is worthy of Amadis of Gaul--but--
(again addressing me) your adventures are really too shocking a subject
to treat lightly. We lay our serious orders on you to come to our castle
this night: we shall be alone."

"Willingly shall I repair to your bower, fayre ladie; but tell me, I
beseech you, how many persons are signified in the world 'alone?'"

"Why," answered Lady Roseville, "I fear we may have two or three people
with us; but I think, Ellen, we may promise our chevalier, that the
number shall not exceed twelve."

I bowed and rode on. What worlds would I not have given to have touched
the hand of the countess's companion, though only for an instant. But--
and that fearful but, chilled me, like an ice- bolt. I put spurs to my