‘Buckhurst is not in that sort of way: he swears by Henry Sydney, a younger son of the Duke, whom you don’t know; and young Coningsby; a sort of new set; new ideas and all that sort of thing. Beau tells me a good deal about it; and when I was staying with the Everinghams, at Easter, they were full of it. Coningsby had just returned from his travels, and they were quite on the _qui vive_. Lady Everingham is one of their set. I don’t know what it is exactly; but I think we shall hear more of it.’ ‘A sort of animal magnetism, or unknown tongues, I take it from your description,’ said his companion. ‘Well, I don’t know what it is,’ said Mr. Melton; ‘but it has got hold of all the young fellows who have just come out. Beau is a little bit himself. I had some idea of giving my mind to it, they made such a fuss about it at Everingham; but it requires a devilish deal of history, I believe, and all that sort of thing.’ ‘Ah! that’s a bore,’ said his companion. ‘It is difficult to turn to with a new thing when you are not in the habit of it. I never could manage charades.’ Mr. Ormsby, passing by, stopped. ‘They told me you had the gout, Cassilis?’ he said to Mr. Melton’s companion. ‘So I had; but I have found out a fellow who cures the gout instanter. Tom Needham sent him to me. A German fellow. Pumicestone pills; sort of a charm, I believe, and all that kind of thing: they say it rubs the gout out of you. I sent him to Luxborough, who was very bad; cured him directly. Luxborough swears by him.’ ‘Luxborough believes in the Millennium,’ said Mr. Ormsby. ‘But here’s a new thing that Melton has been telling me of, that all the world is going to believe in,’ said Mr. Cassilis, ‘something patronised by Lady Everingham.’ ‘A very good patroness,’ said Mr. Ormsby. ‘Have you heard anything about it?’ continued Mr. Cassilis. ‘Young Coningsby brought it from abroad; didn’t you you say so, Jemmy?’ ‘No, no, my dear fellow; it is not at all that sort of thing.’ ‘But they say it requires a deuced deal of history,’ continued Mr. Cassilis. ‘One must brush up one’s Goldsmith. Canterton used to be the fellow for history at White’s. He was always boring one with William the Conqueror, Julius Caesar, and all that sort of thing.’ ‘I tell you what,’ said Mr. Ormsby, looking both sly and solemn, ‘I should not be surprised if, some day or another, we have a history about Lady Everingham and young Coningsby.’ ‘Poh!’ said Mr. Melton; ‘he is engaged to be married to her sister, Lady Theresa.’ ‘The deuce!’ said Mr. Ormsby; ‘well, you are a friend of the family, and I suppose you know.’ ‘He is a devilish good-looking fellow, that young Coningsby,’ said Mr. Cassilis. ‘All the women are in love with him, they say. Lady Eleanor Ducie quite raves about him.’ ‘By-the-bye, his grandfather has been very unwell,’ said Mr. Ormsby, looking mysteriously. ‘I saw Lady Monmouth here just now,’ said Mr. Melton. ‘Oh! he is quite well again,’ said Mr. Ormsby.