“Nor did I say so,” interposed Heffernan. “Hear me out: your son is reported to have answered, 'My father's family have been too trained in loyalty, sire, not to give their voice for what they believe the best interests of the empire: your Royal Highness may doubt his judgment, his honor will, I am certain, never be called in question.' The Prince laughed good-naturedly, and said, 'Enough, Darcy,—quite enough; it will give me great satisfaction to think as highly of the father as I do of the son; there is a vacancy on the staff, and I can offer you the post of an extra aide-de-camp.'”
“This is very good news,—the best I 've heard for many a day, Heffernan; and for its accuracy—”
“Lord Castlereagh is the guarantee,” added Heffernan, hastily; “I had it from his own lips.”
“I 'll wait on him this morning. I can at least express my gratitude for his Royal Highness's kindness to my boy.”
“You 'll not have far to go,” said Heffernan, smiling.
“How so?—what do you mean?”
“Lord Castlereagh is at the door this moment in that carriage;” and Hefifernan pointed to the chariot which, with its blinds closely drawn, stood before the street door.
The Knight moved hastily towards the door, and then, turning suddenly, burst into a hearty laugh,—a laugh so racy and full of enjoyment that Heffernan himself joined in it, without knowing wherefore.
“You are a clever fellow, Hefifernan!” said the Knight, as he lay back in a deep-cushioned chair, and wiped his eyes, now streaming with tears of laughter,—“a devilish clever fellow! The whole affair reminds me of poor Jack Morris.”
“Faith! I don't see your meaning,” said Hefifernan, half fearful that all was not right.