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PAUL CLIFFORD.
169
"Well, Paul, I grew so bold by success, that the devil one day put it into my head to go to a great dinner-party at the Duke of Dashwell's.—I went, dined,—nothing happened: I came away, and the next morning I read in the papers—
"'Mysterious affair,—person lately going about,—first houses—most fashionable parties—nobody knows—Duke of Dashwell's yesterday. Duke not like to make disturbance—as—Royalty present!'
"The journal dropped from my hands. At that moment, the girl of the house gave me a note from Lady Margaret,—alluded to the paragraph;—wondered who was 'The Stranger;'—hoped to see me that night at Lord A
's, to whose party I said I had been asked;—speak then more fully on those matters I had touched on!'—in short, dear Paul, a tender epistle! All great men are fatalists: I am one now: fate made me a madman: in the very face of this ominous paragraph, I mustered up courage, and went that night to Lord A 's. The fact is, my affairs were in confusion—I was greatly in debt: I knew it was necessary to finish my conquest over Lady Margaret as soon as possible;