occasions, seem
even to recognise his master, if they met accidentally.[II-9] Apparently,
Lord Etherington conducted himself upon a similar principle; for he had
no sooner a glimpse of his agent, than he seemed to feel the necessity
of leaving the stage free for his machinations.

"My servant," he said, with as much indifference as he could assume,
"will call for my letters--I must attend Lady Penelope;" and, instantly
proffering his services as Justice of the Peace, or in whatever other
quality she chose to employ them, he hastily presented his arm, and
scarce gave her ladyship time to recover from her state of languor to
the necessary degree of activity, ere he hurried her from the shop; and,
with her thin hatchet-face chattering close to his ear, her yellow and
scarlet feathers crossing his nose, her lean right honourable arm
hooking his elbow, he braved the suppressed titters and sneers of all
the younger women whom he met as they traversed the parade. One glance
of intelligence, though shot at a distance, passed betwixt his lordship
and Solmes, as the former left the public walk under the guidance of
Lady Penelope, his limbs indeed obeying her pleasure, and his ears
dinned with her attempts to explain the business in question, but his
mind totally indifferent where he was going, or ignorant on what
purpose, and exclusively occupied with the packet in Mrs. Pott's heap of
postponed letters, and its probable fate.

At length an effort of recollection made Lord Etherington sensible that
his abstraction must seem strange, and, as his conscience told him, even
suspicious in the eyes of his companion; putting therefore the necessary
degree of constraint upon himself, he expressed, for the first time,
curiosity to know where their walk was to terminate. It chanced, that
this was precisely the question which he needed not to have asked, if he
had paid but the slightest attention to the very voluble communications
of her ladyship, which had all turned upon this subject.

"Now, my dear lord," she said, "I must believe you lords of the creation
think us poor simple women the vainest fools alive. I have told you how
much pain it costs me to speak about my little charities, and yet you
come to make me tell you the whole story over again. But I hope, after
all, your lordship is not surprised at what I have thought it my duty to
do in this sad affair--perhaps I have listened too much to the dictates
of my own heart, which are a