What would I have given, when a young man, to have
had such an uncle!'
The Morning Post announced with a sigh the departure of the Duke of St.
James to the splendid festivities of Malthorpe; and also apprised the
world that Sir Lucius and Lady Aphrodite were entertaining a numerous
and distinguished party at their seat, Cleve Park, Cambridgeshire.
There was a constant bustle kept up at Malthorpe, and the young Duke was
hourly permitted to observe that, independent of all private feeling, it
was impossible for the most distinguished nobleman to ally himself with
a more considered family. There was a continual swell of guests dashing
down and dashing away, like the ocean; brilliant as its foam, numerous
as its waves. But there was one permanent inhabitant of this princely
mansion far more interesting to our hero than the evanescent crowds who
rose like bubbles, glittered, broke, and disappeared.
Once more wandering in that park of Malthorpe where had passed the
innocent days of his boyhood, his thoughts naturally recurred to
the sweet companion who had made even those hours of happiness more
felicitous.
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