Madame Duval rose very late this morning, and, at one o'clock, we had but just breakfasted, when Miss Branghton, her brother, Mr. Smith, and Monsieur Du Bois, called to enquire after our healths.
The civility in young Branghton, I much suspect, was merely the result of his father's commands; but his sister and Mr. Smith, I soon found, had motives of their own. Scarce had they spoken to Madame Duval, when, advancing eagerly to me, "Pray, Ma'am," said Mr. Smith, "who was that gentleman?"
"Pray, cousin," cried Miss Branghton, "was not he the same gentleman you ran away with that night at the opera?"
"Goodness! that he was," said young Branghton, "and, I declare, as soon as ever I saw him, I thought I knew his face."
"I'm sure, I'll defy you to forget him," answered his sister, "if once you had seen him: he is the finest gentleman I ever saw in my life, don't you think so, Mr. Smith?"
"Why, you won't give the lady time to speak," said Mr. Smith.-"Pray, Ma'am, what is the gentleman's name?"
"Willoughby, Sir."
"Willoughby! I think I have heard the name. Pray, Ma'am, is he married?"
"Lord, no, that he is not," cried Miss Branghton; "he looks too smart by a great deal for a married man. Pray, cousin, how did you get acquainted with him?"