would be rapid, his feats of bravery remarkable—they would inevitably reach his majesty's ears, and when he was summoned down to tea he had just been commanded by the king to rise Sir Harry Leeson.
Engrossed by these visions, Harry felt himself at that moment quite independent of Gaveston and his insolence. He reckoned confidently on the day coming when he would be his superior, and be able to render back scorn for scorn, and insult for insult. Instead therefore of presenting himself in the drawing-room with the subdued and mortified air that Fanny had expected, he entered it with a bright countenance and an erect bearing. She was relieved, attributing it to the natural elasticity of youthful spirits that would rise again, and fling off sorrow; and she was particularly glad, because in the interval between dinner and tea, two visitors had arrived whom she intended to take an opportunity of privately consulting about Harry and his fortunes. These were Mr. Olliphant, the lawyer she had written to on the subject, and Mr. Simpson her father's old clerk, now a joint partner in the concern; she was anxious that they should form a favourable opinion of the boy, and it so happened that
