“Yes,” answered he, perceiving how little I was shocked for him, “it is now all going your way.”
I could not pretend to be sorry, and only inquired if Mr. Fox was to speak.
“I know not,” cried he, hastily, “what is to be done, who will speak, or what will be resolved. Fox is in a rage! Oh, a rage!”
“But yet I hope he will speak. I have never heard him.”
“No? not the other day?”
“No; I was then at Windsor.”
“Oh yes, I remember you told me you were going. You have lost every thing by it! To-day will be nothing, he is all rage! On Tuesday he was great indeed. You should have heard him then. And Burke, You should have heard the conclusion of Burke’s speech; ’twas the noblest ever uttered by man!”
“So I have been told.”
“To-day you will hear nothing—know nothing,—there will be no opportunity,—Fox is all fury.”
I told him he almost frightened me; for he spoke in a tremor himself that was really unpleasant.