“Oh, sir, I shall never cease to follow your steps with the deepest anxiety.”
“Would it not be possible for me to secure a lease of that sympathy?”
“Can you tell me what o'clock it is, sir?” said she, very gravely.
“Yes,” said I, rather put out by so sudden a diversion; “it is a few minutes after nine.”
“Pray excuse my leaving you, sir, but Mrs. Keats takes her tea at nine, and will expect me.”
And, with a very respectful courtesy, she withdrew, before I could recover my astonishment at this abrupt departure.
“I trust that my Royal Highness said nothing indiscreet,” muttered I to myself; “though, upon my life, this hasty exit would seem to imply it.”
CHAPTER XXII. INCIDENTS OF THE SECOND DAY'S JOURNEY.
We continued our journey the next morning, but it was not without considerable difficulty that I succeeded in maintaining my former place in the cabriolet. That stupid old woman fancied that princes were born to be bored, and suggested accordingly that I should travel inside with her, leaving the macaw and the toy terriers to keep company with Miss Herbert. It was only by insisting on an outside place as a measure of health that I at last prevailed, telling her that Dr. Corvisart was peremptory on two points regarding me. “Let him,” said he, “have abundance of fresh air, and never be without some young companion.”