“In men’s clothes,” replied the man, boldly and firmly as before. “Bless my soul, George, how can you say such a thing?” cried the woman. “What dress do _you_ say she went in?” cried Sandford to her. “In women’s clothes, indeed, Sir.” “This is very odd!” said Mrs. Horton. “Had she on, or had she not on, a coat?” asked Sandford. “Yes, Sir, a petticoat,” replied the woman. “Do _you_ say she had on a petticoat?” said Sandford to the man. “I can’t answer exactly for that,” replied he, “but I know she had boots on.” “They were not boots,” replied the maid with vehemence—“indeed, Sir, (turning to Sandford) they were only half boots.” “My girl,” said Sandford kindly to her, “your own evidence convicts your mistress—What has a woman to do with _any_ boots?” Impatient at this mummery, Lord Elmwood rose, ordered the servants out of the room, and then, looking at his watch, found it was near one. “At what hour am I to expect her home?” said he. “Perhaps not till three in the morning,” answered Mrs. Horton. “Three! more likely six,” cried Sandford. “I can’t wait with patience till that time,” answered Lord Elmwood, with a most anxious sigh. “You had better go to bed, my Lord,” said Mrs. Horton; “and, by sleeping, the time will pass away unperceived.” “If I _could_ sleep, Madam.” “Will you play a game of cards, my Lord?” said Sandford, “for I will not leave you till she comes home; and though I am not used to sit up all night——” “All night!” repeated Lord Elmwood; “she dares not stay all night.” “And yet, after going,” said Sandford, “in defiance to your commands, I should suppose she dared.” “She is in good company, at least, my Lord,” said Mrs. Horton. “She does not know herself what company she is in,” replied he. “How should she,” cried Sandford, “where every one hides his face?” Till five o’clock in the morning, in conversation such as this, the hours passed away. Mrs. Horton, indeed, retired to her chamber at two, and left the gentlemen to a more serious discourse; but a discourse still less advantageous to poor Miss Milner. She, during this time, was at the scene of pleasure she had painted to herself, and all the pleasure it gave her was, that she was sure she should never desire to go to a masquerade again. Its crowd and bustle fatigued her—its freedom offended her delicacy—and though she perceived that she was the first object of admiration in the place, yet there was one person still wanting to admire; and the remorse at having transgressed his injunctions for so trivial an entertainment, weighed upon her spirits, and added to its weariness. She would have come away sooner than she did, but she could not, with any degree of good manners, leave the company with whom she went; and not till half after four, were they prevailed on to return.