When the rites were all over, and their party had extricated themselves from the outrushing crowd, who were crushing each other nearly to death in their eagerness to behold the last of the retiring chief; when they had seen Washington enter his carriage and drive homeward; in fine, when at last they reached their own door, Lord William Daw manifested so little inclination to take leave, and even betrayed so great a desire to remain, that nothing was left Colonel Compton but to invite the enamored boy to stay and dine, an invitation that was unhesitatingly accepted. Dinner over, and lights brought into the drawing-room, and Lord William Daw still lingering. “Unquestionably, this young man, though a scion of nobility, is ignorant or regardless of the usages of good society,” said Colonel Compton to himself. Then addressing the visitor, he said: “The ladies, sir, are going, this evening, to the new theatre, to see Fennel and Mrs. Whitlock in Romeo and Juliet. Will it please you to accompany us?” “Most happy to do so,” replied the youth, with an ingenuous blush and smile at what he must have considered a slight departure from the formal manners of the day, even while unable to resist the temptation and tear himself away. In a few moments, the carriage was at the door, and the ladies ready. Miss Compton and Miss De Lancie, Colonel Compton and Lord William Daw, filled the carriage, as well as they afterward filled the box at the theatre. The play had already commenced when they entered, and the scene in progress was that of the ball at old Capulet’s house. It seemed to confine the attention of the audience, but as for Lord William Daw, the mimic life upon the stage had no more power than had had the real drama of the morning to draw his attention from the magnificent Marguerite. He spoke but little; spellbound, his eyes never left her, except when, in turning her regal head, her eyes encountered his--when, blushing like a detected schoolboy, he would avert his face. So, for him; the play passed like a dream; nor did he know it was over until the general rising of the company informed him. Every one was enthusiastic. Colonel Compton, who had been in London in an official capacity, and had seen Mrs. Siddons, averred it as his opinion that her sister, Mrs. Whitlock, was in every respect the equal of the great _tragedienne_. All seemed delighted with the performance they had just witnessed, excepting only Lord William Daw, who had seen nothing of it, and Marguerite De Lancie, who seemed perfectly indifferent. “What is your opinion, Miss De Lancie?” inquired the youth, by way of relieving the awkwardness of his own silence. “About what?” asked Marguerite, abstractedly. “Ahem!--about--Shakespeare and--this performance.” “Oh! Can I be interested in anything of this kind, after what we have witnessed in the State House to-day? Least of all in this thing?”