“Henceforth, my Lord,” John Paul replied with vast ceremony: “I am an American, the compatriot of the beautiful Miss Manners!”
“One thing I'll warrant, captain,” said his Lordship, “that you are a wit.”
Volume 5.
CHAPTER XXVI. THE PART HORATIO PLAYED
The bailiff's business was quickly settled. I heard the heavy doors close at our backs, and drew a deep draught of the air God has made for all His creatures alike. Both the captain and I turned to the windows to wave a farewell to the sad ones we were leaving behind, who gathered about the bars for a last view of us, for strange as it may seem, the mere sight of happiness is often a pleasure for those who are sad. A coach in private arms and livery was in waiting, surrounded by a crowd. They made a lane for us to pass, and stared at the young lady of queenly beauty coming out of the sponging-house until the coachman snapped his whip in their faces and the footman jostled them back. When we were got in, Dolly and I on the back seat, Comyn told the man to go to Mr. Manners's.
“Oh, no!” I cried, scarce knowing what I said; “no, not there!” For the thought of entering the house in Arlington Street was unbearable.
Both Comyn and Dorothy gazed at me in astonishment.
“And pray, Richard, why not'?” she asked. “Have not your old friends the right to receive you.”