‘Come, Sir George,’ said the Professor, ‘you must allow us a little sentiment—some belief in man’s heart, else life would be too dull. For my own part, I find the words touching and true to nature.’
‘How would it do?’ asked Lord Chester, smiling, ‘to invert the thing? Could we have a ballad showing how a young lady—she must be young—pined away and died for love of a man who broke his promise?’
They all laughed at this picture, but the young men looked as if Lord Chester had said something wonderful in its audacity. Most certainly, thought the Professor, his words would be quoted in all the clubs that very day. And what—oh! what would the Duchess say? And although she had no legitimate power over the ward of Chancery, she could do what she pleased with the Chancellor.
There was one young fellow present, a certain Algy Dunquerque, who entertained an affection for Lord Chester amounting almost to worship. No one was like him; none so strong, so dexterous, so good at games; no one so clever; no one so audacious; no one so gloriously independent.
They were talking together in a low whisper, unregarded by the ladies, who were talking loudly.
‘Algy,’ said Lord Chester, ‘you said once that you would come to me if ever I asked you, and stand by me as long as I asked you. Are you still of the same mind?’
‘That kind of promise holds,’ said Algy. ‘What shall I do?’
‘I am always ready. But what are you going to do? Shall we run away together?’
‘Hush! I do not know,—yet. All that a desperate man can do.’