"I am afraid," said Lord Worcester, "that I shall be thought very intrusive and impertinent; but I am most anxious and desirous to be allowed to say one word to you before you go to Astley's to-night."
"Leinster comes for me at half-past seven," I replied, "so call at seven."
Worcester rode off, all gratitude.
I was surprised to find Leinster sitting at my pianoforte, in my drawing-room, when I got upstairs. "What again at your hundred and fourth psalm?" said I, "after all the promises you have made to become less righteous?"
"I have a favour to ask," said Leinster, and the boy's usual open smile was fled, and he looked infinitely more interesting; because he was paler, and there was an air of sensibility about him, which was seldom the case.
"My dear little Harry," said he, passing his hand across his curly locks, "I am annoyed and bothered to death with Worcester's perseverance. I am going to Spain. I shall stay perhaps several years, and you and I may never meet again. I know you are going to remind me that you never professed any particular love for me and that you never deceived me as to your love of liberty; but I am not asking anything of you as a right: I am only making an appeal to your good-nature, when I entreat you not to receive Worcester's visits till I am gone, which will be, I hope, in less than six weeks. It should be sooner, but that I have many things to arrange relative to my coming of age."
The simplicity and feeling manner in which Leinster delivered his little speech affected me a good deal. No one, not even Fred Bentinck, could ever attach himself to me, without inspiring me with such friendship as results from a grateful heart. I believe all who know me will admit, what I certainly can affirm to be true, namely, that no success of mine ever once led me to fancy a single heart had been mine by right, or à cause de mon propre mérite, nor was I coquette enough to desire general admiration. On the contrary, I thought it hard, and often a bore, that my gratitude should so frequently be taxed, for what gave me no pleasure.
"Do not go, Leinster," said I, kissing his eye, where a tear was glistening; "and, as long as you will stay, I will tell Worcester I must decline receiving his visits."
"When?" said Leinster, with a bright smile which was very pretty.
"His lordship is coming here at seven, and I will then give him his congé tout de bon," said I.