“Unquestionably,” replied Mr. Hastings; “I was about to have proposed it myself. You shall be treated with every respect, six.”
“May I not breakfast before I go?”
“Certainly, sir; we wish to discharge our duty in the mildest possible manner.”
“Thank you, Hastings, thank you; you were always a good-hearted, gentlemanly fellow. You will, of course, breakfast with me; and these men must be attended to.”
And he rang the bell.
“I have already breakfasted, Sir Robert; but even if I had not, it would not become me, as your prosecutor, to do so; but perhaps the men—”
“What,” exclaimed the baronet, interrupting him, you my prosecutor! For what, pray?”
“That will come in time,” replied the other; “and you may rest assured that I would not be here now were I not made aware that you were about to be married to that sweet girl whom you have persecuted with such a mean and unmanly spirit, and designed to start with her for England this day.”
Whitecraft, now that he felt the dreadful consequences of the awful position in which he was placed, became the very picture of despair and pusillanimity; his complexion turned haggard, his eyes wild, and his hands trembled so much that he was not able to bring the tea or bread and butter to his lips; in fact, such an impersonation of rank and I unmanly cowardice could not be witnessed. He rose up, exclaiming, in a faint and hollow voice, that echoed no other sensation than that of horror:
“I cannot breakfast; I can eat nothing. What a fate is this! on the very day, too, which I thought would have consummated my happiness! Oh, it is dreadful!”