All this time, where were Rosamond, Mrs. Percy, and Mr. Temple? Mr. Temple had taken them to see a fine view; Mr. Percy proposed to sit down and quietly wait their return; Caroline and the Count seemed to have no objection to oblige him, and they placed themselves under a spreading beech. They had not been seated many minutes, before they were interrupted by the appearance of Commissioner Falconer, who came, by a cross path, from the house. “At last I have found you. What a prodigious walk you have taken!” cried the commissioner, wiping his forehead. “But where’s Mrs. Percy and the rest of your party? I have so walked to catch you--rode over on purpose to pay my compliments to the ladies before they return home--and I come chargé d’affaires from Mrs. Falconer to Mrs. Percy. I must see Mrs. Percy--Oh! here she is, coming down the hill--ay, from the _point of view_--Mercy! how you have walked: I am not equal to the _grand tour_--it kills me. But I am so sorry I was not here time enough to do the honours of Clermont-park, as Lord Oldborough is confined. Who has Mrs. Percy for her cicerone? Ha! Mr. Temple--I thought he was always so busy--deputed by Lord Oldborough--really!--Hum--I hope Lord Oldborough did not conceive that there was any want of _empressement_ on my part--I should have been here a full hour sooner, but that my ladies were so late at breakfast after sitting up--and I thought your ladies might have been fatigued too--but Miss Caroline Percy, I see, fresh as a rose--” The commissioner then, as if half in jest, half in earnest, paid Caroline a profusion of compliments upon her appearance the preceding night--numbered on his fingers the conquests she had made, and the hearts she had broken. Mrs. Percy, Rosamond, and Mr. Temple came up; and as soon as they had expressed their raptures on the beauty of this view, the commissioner presented his note from Mrs. Falconer to Mrs. Percy, to which, he said, he was most anxious to be the bearer of a favourable answer, as he knew that he should otherwise be ill-received at home, and the disappointment would be great. The note contained a pressing invitation to a play, which the young people at Falconer-court had it in contemplation to represent. Whether it was to be Zara or Cato, they had not yet positively decided--for Cato they were in terrible distress for a Marcia--could Miss Caroline Percy be prevailed upon to try Marcia? She would look the part so well, and, no doubt, act it so well. Or if she preferred Zara, Miss Georgiana Falconer would, with pleasure, take the part of the confidante. Dresses in great forwardness, Turkish or Roman, convertible, in a few hours’ notice--should wait Miss Percy’s decision. “Well, my dear Caroline, what say you?” cried Mrs. Percy. Caroline was going to answer.