“So that we owe the honor of your visit to the most single-minded of motives, sir,” said Lady Netherby, whose manner had now assumed all its stateliness.
“Yes, my Lady, I came as you see,—Dempsius cum Dempsio,—so that if I succeed, I can say like that fellow in the play, 'Alone, I did it.'”
Lord Netherby, who probably felt that the interview had lasted sufficiently long for the only purpose he had destined or endured it, was now becoming somewhat desirous of terminating the audience; nor was his impatience allayed by those sportive sallies of Mr. Dempsey in allusion to his own former condition as a dependant.
At length he said, “You must be aware, Mr. Dempsey, that this is a matter demanding much time and consideration. The Knight of Gwynne is absent.”
“That's the reason there is not an hour to lose,” interposed Paul.
“I am at a loss for your meaning.”
“I mean that if he comes home before it 's all settled, that the game is up. He would never consent, I 'm certain.”
“So you think that the ladies regard you with more favorable eyes?” said her Ladyship, smiling a mixture of superciliousness and amusement.
“I have my own reasons to think so,” said Paul, with great composure.
“Perhaps you take too hopeless a view of your case, sir,” resumed Lord Netherby, blandly. “I am, unhappily, very ignorant of Irish family rank; but I feel assured that Mr. Dempsey, of Dempsey's Hole—”