“I hope Lord Agincourt has not been correct in telling me that you are pressed for time, Mr. Ogden. I trust you will give us at least a day.”
“Not an hour, not a minute, sir. I mean,” added he, ashamed of his violence, “I have not an instant to spare.”
“You 'll scarcely profit by leaving us this morning,” resumed Sir William. “The torrents between this and Massa are all full, and perfectly impassable.”
“Pray accept Sir William's wise counsels, sir,” said she, with the sweetest of all smiles.
A stern look, and a muttered something inaudible, was all his reply.
“What a dreary servitude must political life be, when one cannot bestow a passing hour upon society!” said she, plaintively.
“Mr. Ogden could tell us that the rewards are worthy of the sacrifices,” said Sir William, blandly.
“Are they better than the enjoyments of leisure, the delights of friendship, and the joys of home?” asked she, half earnestly.
“By Heaven, madam!” cried Ogden, and then stopped; when Sir William broke in,—
“Mrs. Morris is too severe upon public men. They are rarely called on to make such sacrifices as she speaks of.”