The
young Duke fell into an attitude worthy of Hamlet: 'This, then, is _old_
Dacre! O deceitful Fitz-pompey! O silly St. James! Could I ever forget
that tall, mild man, who now is perfectly fresh in my memory? Ah! that
memory of mine; it has been greatly developed to-night. Would that I had
cultivated that faculty with a little more zeal! But what am I to do?
The case is urgent. What must the Dacres think of me? What must May
Dacre think? On the course the whole day, and I the steward, and not
conscious of the presence of the first family in the Riding! Fool, fool!
Why, why did I accept an office for which I was totally unfitted? Why,
why must I flirt away a whole morning with that silly Sophy Wrekin? An
agreeable predicament, truly, this! What would I give now once more to
be in St. James's Street! Confound my Yorkshire estates! How they
must dislike, how they must despise me! And now, truly, I am to be
_introduced_ to him! The Duke of St. James, Mr. Dacre! Mr. Dacre,
the Duke of St. James! What an insult to all parties! How supremely
ludicrous! What a mode of offering my gratitude to the man to whom I
am under solemn and inconceivable obligations! A choice way, truly, to
salute the bosom-friend of my sire, the guardian of my interests, the
creator of my property, the fosterer of my orphan infancy! It is
useless to conceal it; I am placed in the most disagreeable, the most
inextricable situation.
Pages:
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99