He then turned to me and extended his hand. “Chevalier, we have already had the pleasure of some slight correspondence.”
“I have to thank your Excellency for as great a courtesy as one man can shew towards another. When I wrote, I ventured to mention my acquaintance with your Excellency's brother, Lord Elibank, not that I relied on anything else than your Excellency's natural sensibility for the acceptance of my request, but that I might in that manner help to establish my identity.”
“Believe me, Chevalier,” he returned, with emphasis, “that was totally unnecessary. I was quite aware that you were in Canada. A man does not easily slip out of sight so long as he remains among his own class.”
“Your Excellency overwhelms me; such a recognition goes far to make up for the years of disappointment I have endured.”
“Then let us speak plainly, without further compliments on either side,” he said, smiling gravely.
“Nothing could please me better, your Excellency.”
“It will not even be necessary to keep up the 'Excellency.' I shall call you Kirkconnel, after the good homely Scots' fashion, if you have not forgotten.”
“Forgotten! That is one of the curses of my Scotch blood. I cannot forget!”
“Then there is hope for you yet, Kirkconnel! For you have something behind you worth remembering.”
“I cannot say it oppresses me with any great sense of obligation, for I would find some difficulty in naming it at the moment.”