This species of jesting seemed to be a kind of mania with Herbert, for almost every day of his life he referred to his former habit of drinking, greatly to the annoyance of his mother, who, on the occasion just mentioned, turned slightly pale, while Anna looked down upon the carpet and sighed. Thinking this as favorable an opportunity for making inquiries concerning Ada Montrose as I should have, I asked Herbert who she was. His mother’s lips moved as if she would answer the question, but ere she could speak, Herbert replied, “She’s a Georgia lady, a great coquette, who is spending the winter here with a fortieth cousin. Some call her handsome, and I believe mother thinks her beautiful, but if Anna paid as much attention to her toilet and dressed as elegantly as Ada Montrose, she would, in my opinion, look far better.” ’Twas the first compliment he had paid Anna since our arrival, and it brought a bright flush to her usually marble cheek; for Herbert Langley possessed a strange power over my sister, which she did not try to resist. I fancied that my aunt was not quite pleased with Herbert’s comparing Miss Montrose to Anna, but ere she could frame any answer, he asked us if we would like to attend the theatre that evening. Notwithstanding my father’s hostility to _circuses_, I did not remember having heard him say much against _theatres_, and so I answered quickly, “Oh, yes, Anna, let’s go. I want to see what they do.” And so, with my aunt’s permission, it was settled that we should go, and at the usual hour I found myself in the National Theatre, which was densely crowded, for a celebrated actress appeared that night for the last time in Boston. Perfectly bewildered, I followed Herbert and Anna to my uncle’s box, which commanded a fine view of the stage, and then, when I became a little accustomed to the glare of lights and the hum of voices, which in some degree reminded me of that never-to-be-forgotten _circus_ of Cousin Will memory, I ventured to look over the sea of faces, half starting from my seat as I recognized among the crowd Dr. Clayton and his wife, the latter appearing to be looking at us through what I thought resembled the dice boxes of a backgammon board tied together, but which I soon learned was an opera-glass. The doctor was paler and thinner than when I last saw him, and it was with more than one pang that I watched him as, from time to time, he cast a glance of pride at the splendid-looking woman at his side, who attracted considerable attention, and at whom, in the course of the evening, more than one glass was levelled.