Upon this I insisted upon accompanying Bolingbroke to the house of so fortunate a being, and he consented to my wish with feigned reluctance, but evident pleasure.
“And who,” said I to Lady Bolingbroke, “is the happy object of so much respect?”
Lady Bolingbroke answered, laughing, that nothing was so pleasant as suspense, and that it would be cruel in her to deprive me of it; and we conversed with so much zest that it was not till Bolingbroke had left the room for some moments that I observed he was not present. I took the opportunity to remark that I was rejoiced to find him so happy and with such just cause for happiness.
“He is happy, though at times he is restless. How, chained to this oar, can he be otherwise?” answered Lady Bolingbroke, with a sigh; “but his friends,” she added, “who most enjoy his retirement, must yet lament it. His genius is not wasted here, it is true: where could it be wasted? But who does not feel that it is employed in too confined a sphere? And yet—” and I saw a tear start to her eye—“I, at least, ought not to repine. I should lose the best part of my happiness if there was nothing I could console him for.”
“Believe me,” said I, “I have known Bolingbroke in the zenith of his success; but never knew him so worthy of congratulation as now!”
“Is that flattery to him or to me?” said Lady Bolingbroke, smiling archly, for her smiles were quick successors to her tears.
“Detur digniori!” answered I; “but you must allow that, though it is a fine thing to have all that the world can give, it is still better to gain something that the world cannot take away?”
“Are you also a philosopher?” cried Lady Bolingbroke, gayly. “Ah, poor me! In my youth, my portion was the cloister;* in my later years I am banished to the porch! You have no conception, Monsieur Devereux, what wise faces and profound maxims we have here, especially as all who come to visit my lord think it necessary to quote Tully, and talk of solitude as if it were a heaven! Les pauvres bons gens! they seem a little surprised when Henry receives them smilingly, begs them to construe the Latin, gives them good wine, and sends them back to London with faces half the length they were on their arrival. Mais voici, Monsieur, le fermier philosophe!”
* She was brought up at St. Cyr.—ED.
And Bolingbroke entering, I took my leave of this lively and interesting lady and entered his carriage.