“I thank you, my lord—his majesty does me great honour,” cried Mr. Temple, with sudden gratitude: then, his countenance and tone instantly changing from joy to sorrow, he added, “His majesty does me great honour, my lord, but—”
“But not great pleasure, it seems, sir,” said Lord Oldborough. “I thought, Mr. Temple, you had trusted to me the advancement of your fortune.”
“My fortune! My lord, I am struck with surprise and gratitude by your lordship’s goodness in taking thought for the advancement of my fortune. But I have other feelings.”
“And may I ask what is the nature of your other feelings, sir?”
“My lord—excuse me—I cannot tell them to you.”
“One word more, sir. Do you hesitate, from any motives of delicacy with respect to the present envoy?”
“No, my lord, you look too high for my motive; and the higher I am sensible that I stand in your lordship’s opinion, the greater is my fear of falling. I beg you will excuse me: the offer that your lordship has had the goodness to make would be the height of my ambition; but when opposing motives draw the will in contrary directions—”
“Sir, if you are going into the bottomless pit of metaphysics, excuse me,” said Lord Oldborough—“there I must leave you. I protest, sir, you are past my comprehension.”
“And past my own,” cried Mr. Temple, “for,” with effort he uttered the words, “unfortunately I have formed an—I have become attached to—”
“In short, sir, you are in love, I think,” said Lord Oldborough, coolly. “I think I told you so, sir, more than a month ago.”