"
"Then of course you know he is returning to England shortly and holds
a great reception at his place in town, a fortnight from to-day, I
think?"
"Yes, sir."
"And in the space of two years you have received one letter from your
beautiful gipsy?"
"Only one, sir! Though his lordship has kept me informed as to her
welfare and progress."
"Such sublime patience argues either indifference or stupendous faith,
boy!"
"Sir--sir," cried I, stirred at last. "Oh, sir, how may love be--how
endure without faith?"
"Yours is a strange love, Peregrine, exceeding patient and
long-suffering! You practically compelled her to--accept his
lordship's offer, I believe?"
"Uncle--Uncle Jervas," I stammered, "how should you know this?"
"I have the honour to number the Earl of Wyvelstoke among my few
friends, he writes to me also--occasionally. You are an immensely
confiding lover, and your patience is almost--superhuman."
"However, my waiting is nearly over, I shall see her soon--soon!"
"In company with every buck, Corinthian and Macaroni in London,
Peregrine."
"Still--I shall see her, sir!"
"If the reports of her singing, her wit and beauty are but half true,
Peregrine, she will be the rage, the universal toast."
"Still--she will be--Diana, sir!"
"But two years, Nephew--wealth, rank, adulation--can these have
wrought no change, think you?"
"Only for the better, sir!"
"Oh, the sublime assurance of Youth!" murmured my uncle.
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