The face of Miss Frampton visibly brightened the moment his name was articulated. She was all spirits and agitation, though she seemed to feel something aukward in her situation. When he entered the room, she flew half way to meet him, but, suddenly recollecting herself, stopt short. “My dear Miss Frampton,” said his lordship, with a familiar and indifferent air, “I cannot stop a moment. I am mortified to death. The most unfortunate man! But I could not live a whole day without seeing you. Believe me to be more impassioned, more ardent than ever.” Saying this be directed a slight glance and a half bow towards our two friends. “Farewel, my charmer, my adorable!” said he, and kissed her hand. Miss Frampton struck him a slight blow with her fan, and crying, with an easy wink, “Remember!” she dropt him a profound curtesey and his lordship departed.
For a moment the whole company was silent. “By my soul,” exclaimed sir William, “this is the most singular affair!” “Oh, nothing at all,” answered the young lady. “It is all a la mode de Paris. In France no man of fashion can presume to accost a lady, whether young or old, but in the language of love. But it means no more, than when a minister of state says to his first clerk, your humble servant, or to the widow of a poor seaman, your devoted slave.” “Oh,” cried sir William, “that is all. And by my faith, it is mighty pretty. What think you Damon? I hope, when you are married, you will have no objection to lord Osborne, or any other person of fashion making love to your wife before your face.” “What an indelicate question!” said Miss Frampton. “I declare, baronet, you are grown an absolute boor. Nobody ever talks of marriage now. A woman of fashion blushes to hear it mentioned before a third person.” “Why, to say the truth, madam, I have been honoured with so great an intimacy by Damon, that I thought that might excuse the impropriety. And now, pray your ladyship, must I wait till we are alone, before I ask my friend whether his happy day be fixed?” “Since you will talk,” said Miss Frampton, “of the odious subject, I believe I may tell you that it is not. We are in no such hurry.” “My dear sweet play-fellow,” said the baronet, “I must tell you once for all that I am no adept in French fashions. So that you will give me leave to use the unceremonious language of an Englishman. My friend here, you know, is a little sheepish, but I have words at will. I thought matters had been nearer a termination.” “And pray, my good sir, let the gentleman speak for himself. If he is not dissatisfied, why should you be in such haste?” “Indeed, madam,” interposed Damon, “I am not perfectly satisfied. Perhaps indeed a lover ought to think himself happy enough in being permitted to dance attendance upon a lady of your charms. But I once thought, madam, that we had advanced somewhat farther.” “I cannot tell,” answered the lady with an air of levity. “Just as you please. But