The Duke's answer was brought to me by his groom, as soon as he had received my letter; it ran thus:
"Are you really serious? I dare not believe it. Say, by my servant, that you will see me at the turnpike directly, for five minutes, only to put me out of suspense. I will not believe anything you write on this subject. I want to look at your eyes while I hear you say yes.
"Yours, most devotedly and impatiently,
"LORNE."
I went to our old place of rendezvous to meet the duke. How different, and how much more amiable, was his reception than that of Fred Lamb in Hull! The latter, all wild passion; the former, gentle, voluptuous, fearful of shocking or offending me, or frightening away my growing passion. In short, while the duke's manner was almost as timid as my own, the expression of his eyes and the very soft tone of his voice troubled my imagination, and made me fancy something of bliss beyond all reality.
We agreed that he should bring a carriage to the old turnpike, and thence conduct me to his house.
"If you should change your mind!" said the duke, returning a few steps after we had taken leave:—"Mais tu viendras, mon ange? Tu ne sera pas si cruelle?"
Argyle is the best Frenchman I have met with in England, and poor Tom Sheridan was the second best.
"And you," said I to Argyle, "suppose you were to break your appointment to-night?"
"Would you regret it?" Argyle inquired. "I won't have your answer while you are looking at those pretty little feet;" he continued. "Tell me, dear Harriette, should you be sorry?"
"Yes," said I, softly, and our eyes met, only for an instant. Lorne's gratitude was expressed merely by pressing my hand.
"A ce soir donc," said he, mounting his horse; and, waving his hand to me, he was soon out of sight.