Miss Maria sank down, in a curtsey so well devised that it showed the littlest foot in the world, save only Elizabeth's. A fortunate bootmaker later was to make five guineas an afternoon by showing their shoes at a penny a head to the mob that gathered to stare at them; but that time was not yet come. Mr Lepel spoke earnestly:--
"Madam, you can't suppose--'tis not possible I can permit you to return alone after such an adventure. The sun sinks and the streets are mighty ill lit. If my company is disagreeable, I can walk ten paces behind; but otherwise--"
Here Elizabeth interposed, with a fine colour in her cheek:--
"The company of our protector can't be disagreeable--'tis a favour. But, Sir, I will be frank with you: we are in Dublin incognita; our lodging is not equal to our pretensions to birth; and in short--"
She hesitated, with her eyes dropped and the lashes like night upon her cheek. The crimson bow of her upper lip trembled--a seductive picture of troubled beauty. Anyhow it did Mr Harry's business for him. He could no more have tore himself away at that moment than he could have embraced the barge-man swearing blue murder at his feet.
"Madam, these are misfortunes that may happen to the greatest, and 'tis easy seen that in your case breeding and birth combine with--beauty. Is it indiscreet to ask the name of the ladies I have the honour to address?"
"'Tis very indiscreet," says Miss Maria, with one of her bright side-glances; "but yet--should we withhold it, sister?"
"Surely not from so kind a friend." Elizabeth spoke eagerly. "Our name, Sir, is Gunning, and we are granddaughters to the late Viscount Mayo and nieces to his present Lordship. And when I add that our parents have fallen into poverty, you will comprehend--"
Her voice paused on a silver note, which had the beginning of a sob; and when Elizabeth saddened, the world must sadden with her, so lovely were her long eyes and the drooping head. Pity poor Mr Harry! Talk of Scylla and Charybdis--he stood between the Sirens, and could he have halved his heart (and many men have that power), one half had gone to either charmer.
"Madam," says he tenderly, "I feel for your sorrows more than I can express. Might I but have the happiness to be presented to your mama; for 'tis the most prodigious circumstance--I am the son of Sir Francis Lepel of Tarrington in Yorkshire, and I have heard him speak of my Lord Mayo many a time. His Lordship stood second to my grandfather in his famous duel with Lord Ayrshire thirty year since. My name will not be unknown. Permit me--"