Indeed his Majesty entered at this moment, and swore because the chaplain’s mumble outside prevented his hearing the Queen’s remark. “When will that intolerable snuffling cease!” cries he. “You should give directions that he lower his voice.” “Lord, Sir,—how can I?” says the Queen. “’Twould be all over the town next day. I ventured once to have the door closed instead of ajar, and ’twas said the Queen had the door shut as knowing she was past praying for.” “The dirty buffoons!” says the monarch. “What is that handkerchief doing about your neck?” He snatched it off and flung it on the floor, crying roughly to Mrs. Howard, “Because you have an ugly neck yourself you hide the Queen’s”—the poor mistress curtseying as she picked it up. His Majesty next snatched at Dr. Swift’s paper and failing to read it ironic was much gratified at the Doctor’s seeming censure of the Duke until he came to the passage read by the Queen. His remarks at this point must be reserved for the two ladies, who may be said to be seasoned so far that their palates could bear more than the reader’s; yet even the Queen put up her fan at this; and thus we leave the happy party. There was a grand masquerade that night at the Haymarket, when all the high world was present. ’Twas a scene of extreme splendour, the walls adorned with emblematical devices illuminated with thousands of lamps of various colours, and elegant transparencies at either end. The ladies blazed resplendent and the men not less so, the brocaded coat of the Duke of Devonshire being valued at five hundred pounds independent of the jewels and this only one amongst many. But of all, my Lord Baltimore was the most magnificent, in white velvet and gold brocaded tissue. His arm was healed now, but an interesting pallor set him off in the eyes of nearly every lady present. He danced little, waiting, as it were, for some one not present. At last she came, brilliant and beautiful,—my Lady Fanny, dressed as a Fair Persian in a sultana’s robe of pale lutestring and a short velvet bodice so hung with jewels as almost to dazzle the eyes. She had a small gold cap with a veil of gold gauze dependent and my Lord thought he had never seen her so beautiful as he stood watching her charming face all smiles and gaiety and never a look of care to tarnish it. He longed to read her thoughts beneath that fair mask, to know if there were hope of forgiveness—of friendship, for his own wound was so recent that he scarce aspired to more.