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splendid mansion, and in the humble garb of a peasant, with a few necessaries tied up in a handkerchief, began his retreat from the metropolis. His name and title were only known in Grosvenor-square: at present he contented himself with the less dignified appellation of George Trueman; and all traces of Lord Belfont were for a time vanished.
Having continued his walk for near three hours, he found himself fatigued; when an inn, opportunely presenting itself to view, afforded him an opportunity of resting his weary limbs, and satisfying the cravings of nature, which exercise had rendered more than commonly acute. The obsequious host soon furnished him with an excellent breakfast, which having finished, he mounted the Norwich stage, that had arrived during his repast, and, at the close of the day, found himself in that city.
Meanwhile, Bremere, mixing with the circle of Belfont's late acquaintance, heard with silent indignation the illiberal and unjust reflections that were cast on the supposed misconduct of his friend.
The impertinent inquiries with which his ears were assailed, from all who knew him in the habits of friendship with Belfont, were almost too much for his temper to hear with composure; and he was often on the point of violating the promise of secrecy his friend had extorted from him, to vindicate his character from the aspersions of slander.
Seated, one evening, in a box at Drury-lane theatre, he was seen by Lady Caroline Blandish, from the opposite side of the house; who, sans ceremony, immediately came round to him. "So,
