“Just as unlikely; everything like business is strictly forbidden to him.”
“Then I do not see why I should not start at once—now!”
“If I am to accept this as zeal to serve me,” said she, in a very sweet accent, “I thank you sincerely.”
“Ah, Miss Courtenay, could you only guess with what ardour I would apply myself to win your favour! If you had known how the very faintest promise of that favour——”
“Mr. M’Kinlay,” said she, stopping him, and bestowing a very captivating smile on him, “Mr. M’Kinlay belongs to a profession that never stipulates for its reward!”
“Enough, my dear Miss Courtenay,” said he, and, in his enthusiasm, he actually seized her hand and kissed it.
“Good-by,” said she, with a sort of maidenly impatience; “let me hear from you soon.” And she left him.
That same night saw Mr. M’Kinlay wearily rumbling along the same way he had lately travelled, very tired and very road-sick; but still there burned in his heart a small flame of hope, a tiny light indeed, not unlike one of the little lamps which from time to time he saw on the wayside, throwing their sickly glare over some humble shrine.
Ah, M’Kinlay! if you could but have seen the hurried impatience with which a cambric handkerchief was employed to efface, as it were, all trace of that rapturous embrace, it might have rescued you from some vain fancies, even though it made the road all the wearier and the drearier.
A very few words more will complete our account of a retrospect that has already grown longer than we wished. Mr. M’Kinlay’s first care on reaching town, was to address a very carefully-worded and respectful letter to Sir Within Wardle, stating that as the Vyner family had not fully approved of what he, M’K., had done with regard to the arrangements for Miss O’Hara, he hoped Sir Within would graciously name an early day to receive him, and explain what were the plans which they had fixed on for this young person, and by what means they purposed to relieve him from a charge which could not be other than embarrassing.