For the next quarter of an hour there was an exchange of graceful wit and gracious compliment between the various persons of distinction in the green room. Mrs. Thrale, with her usual discrimination, conceived the moment to be an opportune one for putting on what she fondly imagined was an Irish brogue, in rallying Goldsmith upon some of the points in his comedy. Miss Kauffman and Signor Baretti spoke Italian into Reynolds's ear-trumpet, and Edmund Burke talked wittily in the background with the Bunburys.
So crowded the room was, no one seemed to notice how an officer in uniform had stolen up to the side of Mary Horneck where she stood behind Mr. Thrale and General Oglethorpe, and had withdrawn her into a corner, saying a whispered word to her. No one seemed to observe the action, though it was noticed by Goldsmith. He kept his eyes fixed upon the girl, and perceived that, while the man was speaking to her, her eyes were turned upon the floor and her left hand was pressed against her heart.
He kept looking at her all the time that Mrs. Thrale was rattling out her inanities, too anxious to see what effect she was producing upon the people within ear-shot to notice that the man whom she was addressing was paying no attention to her.
When the others as well ceased to pay any attention to her, she thought it advisable to bring her prattle to a close.
“Psha! Dr. Goldsmith,” she cried. “We have given you our ears for more than two hours, and yet you refuse to listen to us for as many minutes.”
“I protest, madam, that I have been absorbed,” said Goldsmith. “Yes, you were remarking that——”
“That an Irishman, when he achieves a sudden success, can only be compared to a boy who has robbed an orchard,” said the lady.
“True—very true, madam,” said he. He saw Mary Horneck's hands clasp involuntarily for a moment as she spoke to the man who stood smiling beside her. She was not smiling.
“Yes, 'tis true; but why?” cried Mrs. Thrale, taking care that her voice did not appeal to Goldsmith only.
“Ah, yes; that's just it—why?” said he. Mary Horneck had turned away from the officer, and was coming slowly back to where her sister and Henry Bunbury were standing.