“Indeed, sir; if I could believe that you gave the lady no encouragement, I would say that—that—but no one will convince me that upon some occasion—it may be forgotten by you—such men of fashion as yourself soon forget these things, I have heard, though the unhappy lady treasures them as golden memories—I say upon some occasion you may have given the Widow Nash encouragement. You have your reputation as a sly rogue to maintain, Mr. Kendal,” said young Burney gravely, as though he were a lawyer being seriously consulted.
“Fore Gad, sir, I gave her no encouragement,” cried Mr. Kendal. “I have ever been most cautious, I swear.”
“Then the greater shame for you, sir,” said Garrick.
The man whom he addressed looked in amazement first at Garrick, then at Lieutenant Burney—Dr. Burney, whom he had come to consult, was smiling quite unnoticed in a corner. His part, apparently, was no more than that of the looker-on at a comedy. His presence was ignored by the others.
“The more shame—the more——” began the visitor. “I protest that I scarcely take your meaning, Mr. Garrick.”
“My meaning is plain, sir,” said Garrick firmly, almost sternly. “I affirm that it lay with you, when you perceived that the lady was so deeply enamoured of you——”
“But I did not perceive it—you have my word for it.”
“Ah, sir,” said Garrick, with the shrug of a Frenchman, which he had studied for some months in Paris—Mr. Garrick and Lord Chesterfield had alone mastered the art. “Ah, sir, we are all men of the world here. 'Twere idle for you to pretend that a gentleman with the figure of the Belvedere Apollo and the leg of—of——” he turned to young Burney— “You have seen the proud-stepping figure-heads of many ships of the line, Mr. Burney,” he said; “prithee help me out in my search for—for—the name I am in search of.”
“H'm, let me see—something wooden with a leg to be proud of?” said the naval gentleman, considering the matter very earnestly.
“Zounds, sir, I did not make it a condition that it should be a wooden leg,” cried Garrick.