“Safer, my lord,—far safer,” said Heffernan, “for he might not have exposed you afterwards. But I think this is my hotel; and I must say it is the first time in my life that I have closed an interview with your Lordship without regret.”
“Am I to hope it will be the last?” said Lord Castle-reagh, laughing.
“The last interview, my Lord, or the last occasion of regretting its shortness?” said Heffernan, with a slight anxiety of voice.
“Whichever Mr. Heffernan opines most to his advantage,” was the cool reply.
“The former, with your permission, my Lord,” said Heffernan, as a flush suffused his cheek. “I wish your Lordship a very good night.”
“Good-night, good-night! Stay, Thomas, Mr. Heffernan has forgotten his gloves.”
“Thanks, my Lord; they were not left as a gage of battle, I assure you.”
“I feel certain of it,” said Lord Castlereagh, laughing. “Good-night, once more.”
The carriage rolled on, and Mr. Heffernan stood for an instant gazing after it through the gloom.
“I might have known it,” muttered he to himself; “these lords are the only people who do stick to each other nowadays.” Then, after a pause, he added, “Drogheda is right, by Jove! there 's no playing against 'four by honors.'”