You would have been
gratified by the universal panegyric of our household. They, of course,
you know, are proud of their young Duke, a real Yorkshire Duke, and they
love to dwell upon your truly imposing appearance. As for myself, who
am true Yorkshire also, I take the most honest pride in hearing them
describe your elegant attitude, leaning back in your britzska, with your
feet on the opposite cushions, your hat arranged aside with that air of
undefinable grace characteristic of the Grand Seigneur, and, which is
the last remnant of the feudal system, your reiterated orders to drive
over an old woman. You did not even condescend to speak English, which
made them quite enthusiastic--'
'Oh, Miss Dacre, spare me!'
'Spare you! I have heard of your Grace's modesty; but this excessive
sensibility, under well-earned praise, surprises me!'
'But, Miss Dacre, you cannot indeed really believe that this vulgar
ruffian, this grim scarecrow, this Guy Faux, was--was--myself.'
'Not yourself! Really, I am a simple personage. I believe in my eyes and
trust to my ears. I am at a loss for your meaning.'
'I mean, then,' said the Duke, who had gained time to rally, 'that this
monster was some impostor, who must have stolen my carriage, picked my
pocket, and robbed me of my card, which, next to his reputation, is a
man's most delicate possession.
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