Lord Jamleigh became very red in the face, and rather confused both in manner and speech. As for myself and the two assistant-magistrates, there was something so benignant in the expression of our host's handsome and dignified countenance—something so quaintly sarcastic in the tone and manner of his discourse, that, had we known that death was the penalty of not maintaining the gravity of our features, our lives would certainly have been forfeited.
A silence for several minutes ensued; and then Lord Jamleigh spoke to our host as follows:—
"Most of the young noblemen who come to this country, come only to travel about and amuse themselves. I come on business—I may say, Parliamentary business. My time is short, and I must make the most of it. I dare say, when you saw my name in the papers, as having arrived in India, you little thought that I was not a man of pleasure and excursion?"
"Upon my word, the subject never once became a matter of speculation with me," said our host.
After some further conversation, in which our host spared his visitor as little as was consistent with good breeding, Lord Jamleigh, who had been "sitting upon thorns," rose and said:—
"I am afraid I have already trespassed on your goodness too long. I will not attempt to apolo—apolo—or to express how much—how much; nor to assure you that—assure you—that when—"
"Oh, pray don't mention it!" said our host, smiling. "You desire your palkee?"
"If you please," said Lord Jamleigh.
The palkee was ordered, and we were standing in expectation that it would be instantly announced as "ready," when the sirdar-bearer (head personal attendant) came into the room, in a state of excessive trepidation, and informed us that the Sahib's Sahib (Lord Jamleigh's valet) was drunk, asleep, and refused to be disturbed on any pretence whatever.