“You were pleased to express your satisfaction with the performance of Cato, Miss Mordaunt,” said Bulstrode, in a very deferential and solicitous manner; “but I question if the entertainment gave you as much pleasure?” “It certainly did not. Had the representation ended with the first piece, I am afraid I should too much regret that we are without a regular stage; but the farce will take off much of the keenness of such regrets.” “I fear I understand you, cousin Anne, and greatly regret that we did not make another choice,” returned Bulstrode, with a humility that was not usual in his manner, even when addressing Anneke Mordaunt; “but I can assure you the play has great vogue at home; and the character of Scrub, in particular, has usually been a prodigious favourite. I see by your look, however, that enough has been said; but after having done so much to amuse this good company, to-night, I shall feel authorised to call on every lady present, at least for a song, as soon as the proper moment arrives. Perhaps I have a right to add, a sentiment, and a toast.” And songs, and toasts, and sentiments, we had, as usual, the moment we had done eating. It was, and indeed _is_, rather more usual to indulge in this innocent gaiety after supper, than after dinner, with us; and that night everybody entered into the feeling of the moment with spirit. Herman Mordaunt gave “Miss Markham,” as he had done at dinner, and this with an air so determined, as to prove no one else would ever be got out of _him_. “There is a compact between Miss Markham and myself, to toast each other for the remainder of our lives,” cried the master of the house, laughing; “and we are each too honest ever to violate it.” “But Miss Mordaunt is under no such engagement,” put in a certain Mr. Benson, who had manifested much interest in the beautiful young mistress of the house throughout the day; “and I trust we shall not be put off by any such excuse from her.” “It is not in rule to ask two of the same race for toasts in succession,” answered Herman Mordaunt. “There is Mr. Bulstrode dying to give us another English belle.” “With all my heart,” said Bulstrode, gaily. “This time it shall be Lady Betty Boddington.” “Married or single, Bulstrode?” inquired Billings, as I thought with some little point. “No matter which, so long as she be a beauty and a toast. I believe it is now my privilege to call on a lady, and I beg a gentleman from Miss Wallace.” There had been an expression of pained surprise, at the trifling between Billings and Bulstrode, in Anneke's sweet countenance; for, in the simplicity of our provincial habits, we of the colonies did not think it exactly in rule for the single to toast the married, or _vice versa_; but the instant her friend was thus called on, it changed for a look of gentle concern. Mary Wallace manifested no concern, however, but gave “Mr. Francis Fordham.”