For that night of nights when the doctor acted I received an invitation from Dolly to Mr. Marmaduke’s box, and to supper afterward in Prince George Street.  When I arrived, the playhouse was lit with myriad candles,—­to be snuffed save the footlights presently,—­and the tiers were all brilliant with the costumes of ladies and gentlemen.  Miss Tayloe and Miss Dulany were of our party, with Fitzhugh and Worthington, and Mr. Manners for propriety.  The little fop spent his evening, by the way, in a box opposite, where my Aunt Caroline gabbled to him and Mr. Allen during the whole performance.  My lady got more looks than any in the house.  She always drew admiration; indeed, but there had been much speculation of late whether she favoured Dr. Courtenay or Fitzhugh, and some had it that the doctor’s acting would decide between the two.

When Romeo came upon the stage he was received with loud applause.  But my lady showed no interest,—­not she, while the doctor fervently recited, “Out of her favour, where I am in love.”  In the first orchard scene, with the boldness of a practised lover, he almost ignored Mrs. Hallam in the balcony.  It seemed as though he cast his burning words and languishing glances at my lady in the box, whereupon there was a deal of nudging round about.  Miss asked for her smelling salts, and declared the place was stifling.  But I think if the doctor had cherished a hope of her affections he lost it when he arrived at the lines, “She speaks, yet she says nothing.”  At that unhappy moment Miss Dorothy was deep in conversation with Fitzhugh, the audible titter in the audience arousing her.  How she reddened when she perceived the faces turned her way!

“What was it, Betty?” she demanded quickly.

But Betty was not spiteful, and would not tell.  Fitzhugh himself explained, and to his sorrow, for during the rest of the evening she would have nothing to do with him.  Presently she turned to me.  Glancing upward to where Patty leaned on the rail between Will Fotheringay and Singleton, she whispered: 

“I wonder you can sit here so quiet, Richard.  You are showing a deal of self-denial.”

“I am happy enough,” I answered, surprised.

“I hear you have a rival,” says she.

“I know I have a dozen,” I answered.

“I saw Percy Singleton walking with her in Mr. Galloway’s fields but yesterday,” said Dolly, “and as they came out upon the road they looked as guilty as if I had surprised them arm in arm.”

Now that she should think I cared for Patty never entered my head.  I was thrown all in a heap.

“You need not be so disturbed,” whispers my lady.  “Singleton has a crooked mouth, and I credit Patty with ample sense to choose between you.  I adore her, Richard.  I wish I had her sweet ways.”

“But,” I interrupted, when I was somewhat recovered, “why should you think me in love with Patty?  I have never been accused of that before.”