men). Amongst all these various persons, Harley, so long a stranger to
the London world, seemed to make himself at home with the ease of an
Alcibiades. Many of the less juvenile ladies remembered him, and rushed
to claim his acquaintance, with nods and becks, and wreathed smiles. He
had ready compliment for each. And few indeed were there, men or women,
for whom Harley L'Estrange had not appropriate attraction. Distinguished
reputation as soldier and scholar for the grave; whim and pleasantry for
the gay; novelty for the sated; and for the more vulgar natures was he
not Lord L'Estrange, unmarried, possessed already of a large
independence, and heir to an ancient earldom, and some fifty thousands a
year?

Not till he had succeeded in the general effect--which, it must be owned,
he did his best to create--did Harley seriously and especially devote
himself to his hostess. And then he seated himself by her side; and, as
if in compliment to both, less pressing admirers insensibly slipped away
and edged off.

Frank Hazeldean was the last to quit his ground behind Madame di Negra's
chair; but when he found that the two began to talk in Italian, and he
could not understand a word they said, he too--fancying, poor fellow,
that be looked foolish, and cursing his Eton education that had
neglected, for languages spoken by the dead, of which he had learned
little, those still in use among the living, of which he had learned
nought--retreated towards Randal, and asked wistfully, "Pray, what age
should you say L'Estrange was? He must be devilish old, in spite of his
looks. Why, he was at Waterloo!"

"He is young enough to be a terrible rival," answered Randal, with artful
truth.