In short, they met frequently there, and oftener still in the green alleys of old Kensington Gardens—I mean that portion of them which was laid out by Wise, the gardener of Queen Anne; and Charters' love for his unknown became a confirmed passion, so much so that he thought of visiting the Horse Guards and withdrawing his application for a transfer to a light dragoon regiment, as he now anticipated with dread a separation from his captivating Sophia.
As she expressed a wish to visit the opera one night, he begged permission to escort her there; and on their entrance all eyes were turned towards them. Her fine hair was dressed to perfection; her bright eyes sparkled; her soft cheek was flushed with pleasure, and the richness of her dress and the splendour of her diamonds so enhanced her fair and remarkable beauty, that Charters was enchanted and felt proud of her.
Yet he could not conceal from himself that she was the object of more than common—and more than well-bred—interest. The ladies whispered to each other behind their fans, and some of the gentlemen looked at Sophia so boldly and so laughingly, that Charters felt inclined to teach them a rough lesson, if he could but fix upon one or two in particular.
They had seats next the royal box, which was empty, as the king was still absent, though expected to arrive at St. James's next day.
The opera over, Charters escorted Sophia to her carriage, and proposed to accompany her home, for he was resolved to remain in a state of suspense no longer. If her rank was so great that she concealed her name from him, why accompany him to the opera, where she was certain of recognition? The mystery was now greater than ever!
On attempting to step into her carriage she said—
"You must not—you cannot come with me—to-night at least."
"Why?" he asked, with surprise.
"The king returns to-morrow from Hanover."
"The king!" repeated Charters, in a bewildered manner. "What has he to do with the love I bear you—the love you have made me so happy by accepting."