“Mortimer,” cried Mr Delvile, “I am sure you are not well; I cannot imagine why you will not have some advice.”
“Were I to send for a physician, Sir,” cried Delvile, with affected chearfulness, “he would find it much more difficult to imagine what advice to give me.”
“Permit me however, Mr Mortimer,” cried Lady Honoria, “to return you my humble thanks for the honour of your assistance in the thunder storm! I am afraid you made yourself ill by attending me!”
“Your ladyship,” returned Delvile, colouring very high, yet pretending to laugh; “made so great a coward of me, that I ran away from shame at my own inferiority of courage.”
“Were you, then, with Lady Honoria during the storm?” cried Mrs Delvile.
“No, Madam!” cried Lady Honoria very quick; “but he was so good as to leave me during the storm.”
“Mortimer,” said Mr Delvile, “is this possible?”
“O Lady Honoria was such a Heroine,” answered Delvile, “that she wholly disdained receiving any assistance; her valour was so much more undaunted than mine, that she ventured to brave the lightning under an oak tree!”
“Now, dear Mrs Delvile,” exclaimed Lady Honoria, “think what a simpleton he would have made of me! he wanted to persuade me that in the open air I should be less exposed to danger than under the shelter of a thick tree!”
“Lady Honoria,” replied Mrs Delvile, with a sarcastic smile, “the next tale of scandal you oblige me to hear, I will insist for your punishment that you shall read one of Mr Newbury's little books! there are twenty of them that will explain this matter to you, and such reading will at least employ your time as usefully as such tales!”