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Had he something of her temperament in him? These oval,

heavy-lidded eyes seemed to look curiously at him. What of George

Willoughby, with his powdered hair and fantastic patches? How

evil he looked! The face was saturnine and swarthy, and the

sensual lips seemed to be twisted with disdain. Delicate lace

ruffles fell over the lean yellow hands that were so overladen

with rings. He had been a macaroni of the eighteenth century, and

the friend, in his youth, of Lord Ferrars. What of the second

Lord Beckenham, the companion of the Prince Regent in his wildest

days, and one of the witnesses at the secret marriage with Mrs.

Fitzherbert? How proud and handsome he was, with his chestnut

curls and insolent pose! What passions had he bequeathed? The

world had looked upon him as infamous. He had led the orgies at

Carlton House. The star of the Garter glittered upon his breast.

Beside him hung the portrait of his wife, a pallid, thin-lipped

woman in black. Her blood, also, stirred within him.