I know it was an impudence, and
felt it one, your Grace, but I plucked up courage to--to--follow her
home, and says I, bowing and as red as a turkey-cock, 'My lady, for the
Lord's sake give up this awfulness. Think of them that love you. Sure
there must be some heart you would tear in two. For God's sake have
pity on it wheresoever it be, though I beg your ladyship's pardon, and
'tis impudence, I know.'"
My lord Duke caught his hand and in the passionate gratitude of the
grasp he gave it forgot his own strength and that Bob was not a giant
also.
"God bless you!" he cried. "God bless you! You are a brave fellow! I--I
am her kinsman and am grateful. God bless you, man, and call on Gerald
Mertoun for a friend's service when you need it."
And he strode away, leaving Bob Langton staring after him and holding
his crushed hand tenderly, but feeling a glow at his heart, for 'tis
not every day a careless, empty-pocketed young ensign is disabled by
the grasp of a Duke's hand, and given his friendship as the result of a
mere artless impulse of boyish good-nature.
His Grace strode homeward and called Lexton to him.
"We go to England within an hour," he said. "We may remain there but a
day. Not a moment is to be lost. 'Tis of most serious import."
When he entered Osmonde House, on reaching the end of his journey, the
first person he encountered was Mr. Fox, who had just come in from Hyde
Park, where he had spent the morning.
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