There were a few officers from the Xenophon present, among them a Lieutenant Matson, who was dividing his time between a very pretty girl and asking why Captain Conkerall was so late.

Fernando played his part remarkably well, considering that he was new in the role.  Whenever he was in danger of “making a bad break,” Lord Kildee, who was the lion of the hour, was at hand to aid him, and with consummate grace and ease helped him through the worst difficulties.  A few glasses of champagne made Fernando bolder.

At last he met that beautiful creature whom he had seen alight from the carriage and was introduced to Miss Morgianna Lane.  Morgianna, young as she was, detected the deception.  Fernando talked without reserve on any and every topic.  Those he knew the least about, he discussed with most fluency, until he bid fair to become the centre of attraction.

When they were alone, Morgianna, with one of her sweetest smiles, said: 

“I don’t believe you are an Englishman.”

“I’ll be honest with you, Miss Lane,” said he.  “I am not.”

“Who are you?”

“If you will keep my secret, I will tell you all.”  Morgianna, as fond of mischief as Terrence, agreed to do so, and he told her everything.  She laughed until the tears coursed down her pretty cheeks.  She said it was a good joke and as soon as she got home, she would tell her papa and he would, she knew, enjoy it.

“But you must not drink any more wine,” she added.  “It affects your head.”  Fernando admitted that he was not used to it, and he promised to desist.  After waltzing for an hour with her and getting a tender squeeze of the hand, he restored her to an affable old lady who acted as Morgianna’s chaperon, and then Fernando retired to new conquests, his head in a whirl and his heart in a flutter.

Lord Kildee soon had him under his care and introduced him to some friends, among them Lieutenant Matson, who had early in the evening made so many unsuccessful attempts to attract Miss Lane’s favorable notice that Fernando had come to regard him as a dangerous rival.  Despite the injunction of the fair Morgianna, he found himself half unconsciously quaffing three or four glasses to the good health of somebody; he really did not know whether it was King George or President Jefferson.

Fernando, naturally witty, soon ingratiated himself into this well occupied clique, and he dosed them with glory to their heart’s content.  He resolved at once to enter into their humor, and as the wine mounted up to his brain, he gradually found his acquaintance and politics extending to every country and political creed.

“Did you know Thomas Matson of his majesty’s ship Spit-Fire?" asked the lieutenant.

“Tom Matson!” cried Fernando.  “Indeed I did sir, and do still! and there is not a man in the British navy I am prouder of knowing.”  Of course he had never heard of Thomas Matson until this moment.