CHAPTER XXIX.
We expose our life to a quotidian ague of frigid impertinences, which would make a wise man tremble to think of .-- COWLEY.
We must suppose a lapse of four years from the date of those events which concluded the last chapter; and, to recompence the reader, who I know has a little penchant for "High Life," even in the last century, for having hitherto shown him human beings in a state of society not wholly artificial, I beg him to picture to himself a large room, brilliantly illuminated, and crowded "with the magnates of the land." Here, some in saltatory motion, some in sedentary rest, are dispersed various groups of young ladies and attendant swains, talking upon the subject of Lord Rochester's celebrated poem,--namely, "Nothing!"-- and lounging around the doors, meditating probably upon the same subject, stand those unhappy victims of dancing daughters, denominated "Papas." The music has ceased; the dancers have broken up; and there is a general but gentle sweep towards the refreshment-room.

In the crowd--having just entered--there glided a young man of an air more distinguished and somewhat more joyous than the rest.
"How do you do, Mr.Linden ?" said a tall and (though somewhat passe) very handsome woman, blazing with diamonds; "are you just come ?" And, here, by the way, I cannot resist pausing to observe that a friend of mine, meditating a novel, submitted a part of the manuscript to a friendly publisher.

"Sir," said the bookseller, "your book is very clever, but it wants dialogue." "Dialogue!" cried my friend: "you mistake; it is all dialogue." "Ay, sir, but not what we call dialogue; we want a little conversation in fashionable life,--a little elegant chit-chat or so: and, as you must have seen so much of the beau monde, you could do it to the life: we must have something light and witty and entertaining." "Light, witty, and entertaining!" said our poor friend; "and how the deuce, then, is it to be like conversation in 'fashionable life'?
When the very best conversation one can get is so insufferably dull, how do you think people will be amused by reading a copy of the very worst ?" "They are amused, sir," said the publisher; "and works of this kind sell!" "I am convinced," said my friend; for he was a man of a placid temper: he took the hint, and his book did sell! Now this anecdote rushed into my mind after the penning of the little address of the lady in diamonds,--"How do you do, Mr.Linden?
Are you just come ?"--and it received an additional weight from my utter inability to put into the mouth of Mr.Linden--notwithstanding my desire of representing him in the most brilliant colours--any more happy and eloquent answer than, "Only this instant!" However, as this is in the true spirit of elegant dialogue, I trust my readers find it as light, witty, and entertaining as, according to the said publisher, the said dialogue is always found by the public.
While Clarence was engaged in talking with this lady, a very pretty, lively, animated girl, with laughing blue eyes, which, joined to the dazzling fairness of her complexion, gave a Hebe-like youth to her features and expression, was led up to the said lady by a tall young man, and consigned, with the ceremonious bow of the vieille tour, to her protection.
"Ah, Mr.Linden," cried the young lady, "I am very glad to see you,--such a beautiful ball!--Everybody here that I most like.

Have you had any refreshments, Mamma?
But I need not ask, for I am sure you have not; do come, Mr.Linden will be our cavalier." "Well, Flora, as you please," said the elderly lady, with a proud and fond look at her beautiful daughter; and they proceeded to the refreshment-room.
No sooner were they seated at one of the tables, than they were accosted by Lord St.George, a nobleman whom Clarence, before he left England, had met more than once at Mr.Talbot's.
"London," said his lordship to her of the diamonds, "has not seemed like the same place since Lady Westborough arrived; your presence brings out all the other luminaries: and therefore a young acquaintance of mine--God bless me, there he is, seated by Lady Flora--very justly called you the 'evening star.'" "Was that Mr.Linden's pretty saying ?" said Lady Westborough, smiling.
"It was," answered Lord St.George; "and, by the by, he is a very sensible, pleasant person, and greatly improved since he left England last." "What!" said Lady Westborough, in a low tone (for Clarence, though in earnest conversation with Lady Flora, was within hearing), and making room for Lord St.George beside her, "what! did you know him before he went to ----?
You can probably tell me, then, who--that is to say--what family he is exactly of--the Lindens of Devonshire, or--or--" "Why, really," said Lord St.George, a little confused, for no man likes to be acquainted with persons whose pedigree he cannot explain, "I don't know what may be his family: I met him at Talbot's four or five years ago; he was then a mere boy, but he struck me as being very clever, and Talbot since told me that he was a nephew of his own." "Talbot," said Lady Westborough, musingly, "what Talbot ?" "Oh! the Talbot--the ci-devant jeune homme!" "What, that charming, clever, animated old gentleman, who used to dress so oddly, and had been so celebrated a beau garcon in his day ?" "Exactly so," said Lord St.George, taking snuff, and delighted to find he had set his young acquaintance on so honourable a footing.
"I did not know he was still alive," said Lady Westborough, and then, turning her eyes towards Clarence and her daughter, she added carelessly, "Mr.Talbot is very rich, is he not ?" "Rich as Croesus," replied Lord St.George, with a sigh.
"And Mr.Linden is his heir, I suppose ?" "In all probability," answered Lord St.George; "though I believe I can boast a distant relationship to Talbot.

However, I could not make him fully understand it the other day, though I took particular pains to explain it." While this conversation was going on between the Marchioness of Westborough and Lord St.George, a dialogue equally interesting to the parties concerned, and I hope, equally light, witty, and entertaining to readers in general, was sustained between Clarence and Lady Flora.
"How long shall you stay in England ?" asked the latter, looking down.
"I have not yet been able to decide," replied Clarence, "for it rests with the ministers, not me.