"Yes, my Lord; it's quite true, your Lordship"—interposed Titmouse, reverentially.
"That, sir, is the only way I know of, by which aristocratic institutions can be brought to bear effectively upon, to blend harmoniously with the interests of the lower orders—the people, Mr. Titmouse." Titmouse thought this wonderfully fine, and sat listening as to an oracle of political wisdom. The earl, observing it, began to form a much higher opinion of his little kinsman. "The unfortunate gentleman, your predecessor at Yatton, sir, if he had but allowed himself to have been guided by those who had mixed in public affairs before he was born," said the earl, with great dignity——
"'Pon my word, my Lord, he was, I've heard, a d—d Tory!—Oh my Lady! my Lord! humbly beg pardon," he added, turning pale; but the fatal word had been uttered, and heard by both; and he felt as if he could have sunk through the floor.
"Shall I have the honor of taking another glass of wine with you, sir?" inquired the earl, rather gravely and severely, as if wishing Mr. Titmouse fully to appreciate the fearful breach of etiquette of which he had just been guilty, by swearing in such a presence. After they had bowed to each other, a very awkward pause occurred, which was at length broken by the considerate Lady Cecilia.
"Are you fond of the opera, Mr. Titmouse?"
"Very, my Lady—most particular," replied Titmouse, who had been there once only.
"Do you prefer the opera, or the ballet? I mean the music or the dancing?"
"Oh I understand your Ladyship. 'Pon my word, my Lady, I prefer them both. The dancing is most uncommon superior; though I must say, my Lady, the lady dancers there do most uncommonly—rather, I should say"—He stopped abruptly; his face flushed, and he felt as if he had burst into a perspiration. What the deuce was he about? It seemed as if some devil within were urging him on, from time to time, to commit himself. Good gracious! another word, and out would have come his opinion as to the shocking indecency of the ballet!
"I understand you, sir; I quite agree with you," said Lady Cecilia, calmly; "the ballet does come on at a sad late hour; I often wish they would now and then have the ballet first."
"'Pon my life, my Lady," quoth Titmouse, eagerly snatching at the plank which had been thrown to him; "that is what I meant—nothing else, upon my soul, your Ladyship!"