of Cornwall himself—I declare it does my heart good to look at them!"
Whilst Mrs. Montagu was thus exulting in the reflected grandeur that shone upon her, from being sister-in-law to the person who sat hand-in-hand with the duke, the joy and delight of that exalted personage had been almost as great as her own.
His impatience during the whole procession from London had been excessive; and the moment he saw Edmund, he rubbed his hands in ecstasy, and jumping up in his seat almost overturned Sir Ambrose, who was also bending forward eagerly gazing upon his son. "There! there he is! cried the duke. "Look how handsome he is! Oh the young rogue! there'll be many a heart lost to-day, I warrant me! Look at him, how the colour comes into his cheeks as the Queen speaks to him! Look! Now he helps her on her horse—and now see, he's looking round for us! There I caught his eye—see, Sir Ambrose! don't you see him?—Surely you arn't crying, my old friend? Why you'll make me as great a fool as yourself—God bless him! I am sure I don't know
