“My head is like a lump of lead,” said the young man.
“Your lordship was very merry last night, as, indeed, befits the happy occasion.”
“Was I merry? Indeed, I think I was very drunk. What occasion?”
“Drink a little small ale,” said the Doctor; “it will revive you.”
He took a long drink of the beer, and tried to stand.
“So,” he said, “I am better already; but my head reels, Doctor, and my legs are unsteady. It serves me right. It is the first time, and it shall be the last.”
“I hope so, since your lordship is about to undertake so important a charge.”
“What charge?” asked Lord Chudleigh, still dazed and unsteady.
“Is it possible that your lordship hath forgotten your mistress of whom you would still be talking last night? ‘The sweetest girl in England—the prettiest girl in all the world—the fairest, kindest nymph’—I quote your lordship.”
Lord Chudleigh stared in amazement.