“‘Mr. Baggs, your Grace,’ he said. ‘He dined with your Grace at—’
“‘Take him away, give him in charge to the police; the fellow must be punished for his insolence.’
“My head was whirling, and my faculties were all astray. I neither knew what I said, nor what happened after, save that I felt myself half led, half pushed, down the stairs I had mounted so confidently five minutes before, while the liveried rascal kept dinning into my ears some threats about two months’ imprisonment and hard labor. Just as we were passing through the hall, however, the door of a front-parlor opened, and a gentleman in a very elegant dressing-gown stepped out. I had neither time nor inclination to mark his features,—my own case absorbed me too completely. ‘I am an unlucky wretch,’ said I, aloud. ‘Nothing ever prospers with me.’
“‘Cheer up, old boy,’ said he of the dressing-gown: ‘fortune will take another turn yet; but I do confess you hold miserable cards.’
“The voice as he spoke aroused me. I turned about, and there stood my companion at Chesterfield.
“‘His Grace wants you, Mr. Cavendish,’ said the footman, as he opened the door for me.
“‘Let him go, Thomas,’ said Mr. Cavendish. ‘There’s no harm in old Raggs.’
“‘Isn’t he the Duke?’ gasped I, as he tripped upstairs without noticing me further.
“‘The Duke,—no, bless your heart, he’s his gentleman!’
“Here was an end of all my cherished hopes and dreams of patronage. The aristocratic leader of fashion, the great owner of palaces, the Whig autocrat, tumbled down into a creature that aired newspapers and scented pocket-handkerchiefs. Never tell me of the manners of the titled classes again. Here was a specimen that will satisfy my craving for a life long; and if the reflection be so strong, what must be the body which causes it!”