Suddenly, however, breaking off, evidently from not knowing how to go on, he exclaimed, “Well, I shall tell it you all by and by; you come in for your share!”
Almost breathless now with amaze, I could hardly cry,
“Do I?”
“Yes, I’ll tell you,” cried he; but again he stopped, and, hesitatingly, said, “You—you won’t be angry?”
“No,” I answered, still more amazed, and even almost terrified, at what I had now to expect.
“Well, then,” cried he, instantly resuming his first gay and rapid manner, “the king has been calling them all to order for staying so long away from him. ‘All the equerries and gentlemen here,’ he said, ‘lost their whole time at the table, by drinking so much wine and sitting so long over their bottle, which constantly made them all so slow in returning to their waiting, that when he wanted them in the afternoon they were never ready; and-and-and Mr. Fairly,’ says he, ‘is as bad as any of them; not that he stays so long at table, or is so fond of wine, but he’s just as late as the rest; for he’s so fond of the company of learned ladies, that he gets to the tea-table with Miss Burney, and there he stays and spends his whole time.’”
He spoke all this like the velocity of lightning but, had it been with the most prosing slowness, I had surely never interrupted him, so vexed I was, so surprised, so completely disconcerted. Finding me silent, he began again, and as rapidly as ever; “I know exactly,” he cried, “what it all means—what the king has in his head—exactly what has given rise to the idea—’tis Miss Fuzilier.”
Now, indeed, I stared afresh, little expecting to hear her named by him. He went on in too much hurry for me to recollect his precise words, but he spoke of her very highly, and mentioned her learning, her education, and her acquirements, with great praise, yet with that sort of general commendation that disclaims all peculiar interest; and then, with some degree of displeasure mixed in his voice, mentioned the report that had been spread concerning them, and its having reached the ears of the king before his Illness. He then lightly added something I could not completely hear, of its utter falsehood, in a way that seemed to hold even a disavowal too important for it, and then concluded with saying, “And this in the present confused state of his mind is altogether, I know, what he means by the learned ladies.”
When he had done he looked earnestly for my answer, but finding I made none, he said, with some concern, “You won’t think any more of it?”
“No,” I answered, rather faintly.