“Is not what so, my dear young lady?” asked Mr. Walpole, pretending not to have heard.

“There!” exclaimed Dolly, pouting, when the laughter had subsided; “you make believe to care something about me, and yet will not listen to what I say.”

I had seen at her feet our own Maryland gallants, the longest of whose reputations stretched barely from the James to the Schuylkill; but here in London men were hanging on her words whose names were familiarly spoken in Paris, and Rome, and Geneva.  Not a topic was broached by Mr. Walpole or Mr. Fox, from the remonstrance of the Archbishop against masquerades and the coming marriage of my Lord Albemarle to the rights and wrongs of Mr. Wilkes, but my lady had her say.  Mrs. Manners seemed more than content that she should play the hostess, which she did to perfection.  She contrived to throw poisoned darts at the owner of Strawberry that started little Mr. Marmaduke to fidgeting in his seat, and he came to the rescue with all the town-talk at his command.  He knew little else.  Could Mr. Walpole tell him of this club of both sexes just started at Almack’s?  Mr. Walpole could tell a deal, tho’ he took the pains first to explain that he was becoming too old for such frivolous and fashionable society.  He could not, for the life of him, say why he was included.  But, in spite of Mr. Walpole, John Paul was led out in the paces that best suited him, and finally, to the undisguised delight of Mr. Fox, managed to trip Horry upon an obscure point in Athenian literature.  And this broke up the company.

As we took our leave Dorothy and Mr. Fox were talking together with lowered voices.

“I shall see you before I go,” I said to her.

She laughed, and glanced at Mr. Fox.

“You are not going, Richard Carvel,” said she.

“That you are not, Richard Carvel,” said Mr. Fox.

I smiled, rather lamely, I fear, and said good night.

CHAPTER XXX

A CONSPIRACY

“Banks, where is the captain?” I asked, as I entered the parlour the next morning.

“Gone, sir, since seven o’clock,” was the reply.  “Gone!” I exclaimed; “gone where?”

“Faith, I did not ask his honour, sir.”

I thought it strange, but reflected that John Paul was given to whims.  Having so little time before him, he had probably gone to see the sights he had missed yesterday:  the Pantheon, which was building, an account of which had appeared in all the colonial papers; or the new Blackfriars Bridge; or the Tower; or perhaps to see his Majesty ride out.  The wonders of London might go hang, for all I cared.  Who would gaze at the King when he might look upon Dorothy!  I sighed.  I bade Banks dress me in the new suit Davenport had brought that morning, and then sent him off to seek the shipping agent of the Virginia packet to get us a cabin.  I would go to Arlington Street as soon as propriety admitted.