"Upon my honour, no," said the viscount. "I should not have dared so to address you on so short an acquaintance."
I pressed him to tell me from whom the letter came. He again hesitated; he seemed confused, and sorry that he had undertaken to deliver it.
"I hope that I shall not forfeit your good opinion," said he; "but—"
"But what, my lord?"
"I could not refuse—for the letter is from the Prince of Wales."
I was astonished; I confess that I was agitated; but I was also somewhat skeptical as to the truth of Lord Malden's assertion. I returned a formal and a doubtful answer, and his lordship shortly after took his leave.
A thousand times did I read this short but expressive letter. Still I did not implicitly believe that it was written by the prince; I rather considered it as an experiment made by Lord Malden, either on my vanity or propriety of conduct. On the next evening the viscount repeated his visit. We had a card-party of six or seven, and the Prince of Wales was again the subject of unbounded panegyric. Lord Malden spoke of his Royal Highness's manners as the most polished and fascinating; of his temper as the most engaging; and of his mind, the most replete with every amiable sentiment. I heard these praises, and my heart beat with conscious pride, while memory turned to the partial but delicately respectful letter which I had received on the preceding morning.
The next day Lord Malden brought me a second letter. He assured me that the prince was most unhappy lest I should be offended at his conduct, and that he conjured me to go that night to the Oratorio, [[38]] where he would by some signal convince me that he was the writer of the letters, supposing I was still skeptical as to their authenticity.
I went to the Oratorio; and, on taking my seat in the balcony-box, the prince almost instantaneously observed me. He held the printed bill before his face, and drew his hand across his forehead, still fixing his eyes on me. I was confused, and knew not what to do. My husband was with me, and I was fearful of his observing what passed. Still the prince continued to make signs, such as moving his hand on the edge of the box as if writing, then speaking to the Duke of York[[39]] (then Bishop of Osnaburg), who also looked toward me with particular attention.
I now observed one of the gentlemen in waiting bring the prince a glass of water; before he raised it to his lips he looked at me. So marked was his Royal Highness's conduct that many of the audience observed it; several persons in the pit directed their gaze at the place where I sat; and, on the following day, one of the diurnal prints observed that there was one passage in Dryden's Ode which seemed particularly interesting to the Prince of Wales, who—