“I travel to Manchester,” said Armstrong, more non-committal than the other appeared to be.
“Then I shall be happy to bear you company, if it so pleases you, until we come to the parting of our ways. That is, if you are not in haste and can wait until I have a word with my lass, in whose direction we are now tending.”
To this invitation the Scotsman made no reply, and the other began to fear he had been too forward in his proposal. He rattled on, striving to cover his error in a flood of talk.
“She is the most winsome little lady in all the country side; the only daughter of Lord Rudby, who is——”
“Lord Rudby!” echoed Armstrong. “You fly high, my young sir.”
“Why should I not? Although she is the sweetest angel that ever visited this glad earth, she makes no descent when she joins her hand to mine. I am Thomas Wentworth, eldest son to the late Earl of Strafford.”
They had been travelling knee to knee in the narrow way, but now Armstrong pulled up and looked at his companion in amazement.
“Do you mean the Minister to the King of England?”
“Yes. There was no other.”
“Then you are perhaps about to visit Charles at Oxford?”