"He is worthy his name," thought Clarence; "though he was in the
wrong, my heart yearns to him."




CHAPTER XXXV.

Things wear a vizard which I think to like not.--Tanner of Tyburn.

Clarence, from that night, appeared to have formed a sudden attachment
to Lord Borodaile. He took every opportunity of cultivating his
intimacy, and invariably treated him with a degree of consideration
which his knowledge of the world told him was well calculated to gain
the good will of his haughty and arrogant acquaintance; but all this
was in effectual in conquering Borodaile's coldness and reserve. To
have been once seen in a humiliating and degrading situation is quite
sufficient to make a proud man hate the spectator, and, with the
confusion of all prejudiced minds, to transfer the sore remembrance of
the event to the association of the witness. Lord Borodaile, though
always ceremoniously civil, was immovably distant; and avoided as well
as he was able Clarence's insinuating approaches and address. To add
to his indisposition to increase his acquaintance with Linden, a
friend of his, a captain in the Guards, once asked him who that Mr.
Linden was? and, on his lordship's replying that he did not know, Mr.
Percy Bobus, the son of a wine-merchant, though the nephew of a duke,
rejoined, "Nobody does know."

"Insolent intruder!" thought Lord Borodaile: "a man whom nobody knows