At last this visit—dreaded, I am sure, by three of the party, was over, but not before I had promised to dine at the Trevanions’ that day.
When we were again alone, my father threw off a long breath, and looking round him cheerfully, said, “Since Pisistratus deserts us, let us console ourselves for his absence—send for brother Jack, and all four go down to Richmond to drink tea.”
“Thank you, Austin,” said Roland. “But I don’t want it, I assure you!”
“Upon your honour?” said my father in a half whisper.
“Upon my honour.”
“Nor I either! So Kitty, Roland, and I will take a walk, and be back in time to see if that young Anachronism looks as handsome as his new London-made clothes will allow him. Properly speaking, he ought to go with an apple in his hand, and a dove in his bosom. But now I think of it, that was luckily not the fashion with the Athenians till the time of Alcibiades!”
CHAPTER XXIII.
You may judge of the effect that my dinner at Mr Trevanion’s, with a long conversation after it with Lady Ellinor, made upon my mind, when, on my return home, after having satisfied all questions of parental curiosity, I said nervously, and looking down,—“My dear father,—I should like very much, if you have no objection,—to—to—”
“What, my dear?” asked my father kindly.
“Accept an offer Lady Ellinor has made me, on the part of Mr Trevanion. He wants a secretary. He is kind enough to excuse my inexperience, and declares I shall do very well, and can soon get into his ways. Lady Ellinor says (I continued with dignity) that it will be a great opening in public life for me; and at all events, my dear father, I shall see much of the world, and learn what I really think will be more useful to me than any thing they will teach me at college.”