Spencer Fitzroy was, at that moment, at no great distance. He had been for some days quartered, with a small detachment, in a town in the neighbourhood. They were on a recruiting expedition; a business for which he was always selected; to win over every man, and to subdue every woman, by his eloquence, or his arts, being alike the object of his ambition. Having now nobody that interested him at Woodlands, and being besides engaged in the prosecution of some designs, which he knew Lord Torrendale's / pride, or his principle, would lead him to disapprove, he had not deemed it necessary to announce his arrival to the family; and it might have continued unknown to them, for some time longer, if an accidental meeting had not led to the discovery he was most desirous to prevent.

It happened, that as the usual party was assembled around the breakfast table, consisting of Lord and Lady Torrendale, Miss Ferrars, Miss Swanley, the two Springs, and Major O'hara, who had again become very assiduous at Woodlands, the poet Alcæus replied to Lady Torrendale's incessant demand for news, that Sir Harold Melbourne was now the happiest of men; for that he had just discovered the whole of the precious tessellated pavement, of which he had shewn them a part. ‘Your Ladyship may, therefore, soon expect an invitation,’ he continued, ‘and a grand breakfast at least.’

‘I hate a grand breakfast; then he will have time to collect the Saplings – and the Crossbrooks – and the Musgraves – and the Evertires, and all the quizzes within ten miles of him; had we not better surprize him?’

‘With all my heart,’ resumed the Bard; as if he were the only person to be consulted on the occasion; 'and I'll tell you how we will have it: Lord Torrendale and the three ladies in the barouche, the Major and I will drive, and the gentlemen, not so engaged, can accompany the ladies on horseback.