Charles Fox laughed when he heard it.  But he was serious when he came to speak of Chartersea, and bade me look out for assassination.  I had Banks follow me abroad at night with a brace of pistols under his coat, albeit I feared nothing save that I should not have an opportunity to meet the duke in a fair fight.  And I resolved at all hazards to run Mr. Marmaduke down with despatch, if I had to waylay him.

Mr. Storer, who was forever giving parties, was responsible for this one at Vauxhall.  We went in three coaches, and besides Dorothy and Mr. Marmaduke, the company included Lord and Lady Carlisle, Sir Charles and Lady Sarah Bunbury, Lady Ossory and Lady Julia Howard, two Miss Stanleys and Miss Poole, and Comyn, and Hare, and Price, and Fitzpatrick, the latter feeling very glum over a sum he had dropped that afternoon to Lord Harrington.  Fox had been called to St. Stephen’s on more printer’s business.

Dolly was in glowing pink, as I loved best to see her, and looked divine.  Comyn and I were in Mr. Manners’s coach.  The evening was fine and warm, and my lady in very lively spirits.  As we rattled over Westminster Bridge, the music of the Vauxhall band came “throbbing through the still night,” and the sky was bright with the reflection of the lights.  It was the fashion with the quality to go late; and so eleven o’clock had struck before we had pulled up between Vauxhall stairs, crowded with watermen and rough mudlarks, and the very ordinary-looking house which forms the entrance of the great garden.  Leaving the servants outside, single-file we trailed through the dark passage guarded by the wicketgate.

“Prepare to be ravished, Richard,” said my lady, with fine sarcasm.

“You were yourself born in the colonies, miss,” I retorted.  “I confess to a thrill, and will not pretend that I have seen such sights often enough to be sated.”

“La!” exclaimed Lady Sarah, who had overheard; “I vow this is refreshing.  Behold a new heaven and a new earth, Mr. Carvel?”

Indeed, much to the amusement of the company, I took no pains to hide my enthusiasm at the brilliancy of the scene which burst upon me.  A great orchestra rose in the midst of a stately grove lined on all four sides with supper-boxes of brave colours, which ran in straight tiers or swept around in circles.  These were filled with people of all sorts and conditions, supping and making merry.  Other people were sauntering under the trees, keeping step with the music.  Lamps of white and blue and red and green hung like luminous fruit from the branches, or clustered in stars and crescents upon the buildings.

“Why, Richard, you are as bad as Farmer Colin.”

         “’O Patty!  Soft in feature,
          I’ve been at dear Vauxhall;
          No paradise is sweeter,
          Not that they Eden call.’”

whispered Dolly, paraphrasing.

At that instant came hurrying Mr. Tom Tyers, who was one of the brothers, proprietors of the gardens.  He was a very lively young fellow who seemed to know everybody, and he desired to know if we would walk about a little before being shown to the boxes reserved for us.