“Bashfulness,” repeated Miss Larolles; “Lord, you don't conceive the thing at all. Why he's at the very head of the ton. There's nothing in the world so fashionable as taking no notice of things, and never seeing people, and saying nothing at all, and never hearing a word, and not knowing one's own acquaintance. All the ton people do so, and I assure you as to Mr Meadows, he's so excessively courted by every body, that if he does but say a syllable, he thinks it such an immense favour, you've no idea.” This account, however little alluring in itself, of his celebrity, was yet sufficient to make Morrice covet his further acquaintance; for Morrice was ever attentive to turn his pleasure to his profit, and never negligent of his interest, but when ignorant how to pursue it. He returned, therefore, to the charge, though by no means with the same freedom he had begun it, and lowering his voice to a tone of respect and submission, he said, “Pray, Sir, may we take the liberty to ask your advice, whether we shall go on, or take a turn back?” Mr Meadows made not any answer; but when Morrice was going to repeat his question, without appearing even to know that he was near him, he abruptly said to Miss Larolles, “Pray what is become of Mrs Mears? I don't see her amongst us.” “Lord, Mr Meadows,” exclaimed she, “how can you be so odd? Don't you remember she went on in a chaise to the inn?” “O, ay, true,” cried he; “I protest I had quite forgot it; I beg your pardon, indeed. Yes, I recollect now,--she fell off her horse.” “Her horse? Why you know she was in her chaise.” “Her chaise, was it?--ay, true, so it was. Poor thing!--I am glad she was not hurt.” “Not hurt? Why she's so excessively bruised, she can't stir a step! Only conceive what a memory you've got!” “I am most extremely sorry for her indeed,” cried he, again stretching himself and yawning; “poor soul!--I hope she won't die. Do you think she will!” “Die!” repeated Miss Larolles, with a scream, “Lord, how shocking! You are really enough to frighten one to hear you.” “But, Sir,” said Morrice, “I wish you would be so kind as to give us your vote; the man will else be gone so far, we sha'n't be able to overtake him.--Though I do really believe that is the very fellow coming back to peep at us again!” “I am ennuyé to a degree,” cried the Captain; “he is certainly set upon us as a spy, and I must really beg leave to enquire of him upon what principle he incommodes us.”--And instantly he rode after him. “And so will I too,” cried Morrice, following. Miss Larolles screamed after him to give her first her little dog; but with a schoolboy's eagerness to be foremost, he galloped on without heeding her.