Warburton sensed the finality in his voice, and wisely threw away his last chance.
"I understand 'tis painful, my lord, and I will say no more. Only remember—and think on it, I beg!"
The concern in his face touched my lord.
"You are too good to me, Mr. Warburton, I vow. I can only say that I appreciate your kindness—and your forbearance. And I trust that you will forgive my seeming churlishness and believe that I am indeed grateful to you."
"I wish I might do more for you, Master Jack!" stammered Warburton, made miserable by the wistful note in his favourite's voice. There was no time for more; the coach already awaited him, and his valise had been hoisted up. As they stood together in the porch, he could only grip my lord's hand tightly and say good-bye. Then he got hurriedly into the coach, and the door was slammed behind him.
My lord made his leg, and watched the heavy vehicle move forward and roll away down the street. Then with a stifled sigh he turned and walked towards the stables. His servant saw him coming and went at once to meet him.
"The mare, sir?"
"As you say, Jim—the mare. In an hour."
He turned and would have strolled back.
"Sir—your honour!"