_Humph._ What hinders the proceeding? _Sir J. Bev._ Don't interrupt me. You know I was last Thursday at the masquerade; my son, you may remember, soon found us out. He knew his grandfather's habit, which I then wore; and though it was the mode, in the last age, yet the masquers, you know, followed us as if we had been the most monstrous figures in that whole assembly. _Humph._ I remember, indeed, a young man of quality in the habit of a clown, that was particularly troublesome. _Sir J. Bev._ Right; he was too much what he seemed to be. You remember how impertinently he followed and teased us, and would know who we were. _Humph._ I know he has a mind to come into that particular. [_Aside._ _Sir J. Bev._ Ay, he followed us till the gentleman who led the lady in the Indian mantle presented that gay creature to the rustic, and bid him (like Cymon in the fable) grow polite by falling in love, and let that worthy old gentleman alone, meaning me. The clown was not reformed, but rudely persisted, and offered to force off my mask; with that, the gentleman, throwing off his own, appeared to be my son, and in his concern for me, tore off that of the nobleman; at this they seized each other; the company called the guards, and in the surprise the lady swooned away; upon which my son quitted his adversary, and had now no care but of the lady. When raising her in his arms, "Art thou gone," cried he, "for ever?--forbid it, Heaven!" She revived at his known voice, and with the most familiar, though modest, gesture, hangs in safety over his shoulder weeping, but wept as in the arms of one before whom she could give herself a loose, were she not under observation; while she hides her face in his neck, he carefully conveys her from the company. _Humph._ I have observed this accident has dwelt upon you very strongly. _Sir J. Bev._ Her uncommon air, her noble modesty, the dignity of her person, and the occasion itself, drew the whole assembly together; and I soon heard it buzzed about she was the adopted daughter of a famous sea-officer who had served in France. Now this unexpected and public discovery of my son's so deep concern for her---- _Humph._ Was what, I suppose, alarmed Mr. Sealand, in behalf of his daughter, to break off the match? _Sir J. Bev._ You are right. He came to me yesterday and said he thought himself disengaged from the bargain; being credibly informed my son was already married, or worse, to the lady at the masquerade. I palliated matters, and insisted on our agreement; but we parted with little less than a direct breach between us.[118] _Humph._ Well, sir; and what notice have you taken of all this to my young master?