the drawing-room. Aware of the state of the family, and of all families,
indeed, during Pinkster, he had insisted on my aunt's quitting him, while
he looked over some new books that had recently been received from home;
among which was a new and very handsome edition of the Spectator, a work
that enjoys a just celebrity throughout the colonies.

Mr. Mordaunt advanced to receive me with studied politeness, yet a
warmth that could not well be counterfeited, the instant I approached.
Nevertheless, his manner was easy and natural; and to me he appeared to be
the highest-bred man I had ever seen.

"I am thankful that the debt of gratitude I owe you, my
young friend," he said, at once, and without preface of any sort, unless
that of manner be so received, "is due to the son of a gentleman I so
much esteem as Evans Littlepage. A loyal subject, an honest man, and a
well-connected and well-descended gentleman, like him, may well be the
parent of a brave youth, who does not hesitate to face even lions, in
defence of the weaker sex."

"I cannot affect to misunderstand you, sir," I answered; "and I sincerely
congratulate you that matters are no worse; though you greatly overrate the
danger. I doubt if even a lion would have the heart to hurt Miss Mordaunt,
were she in his power."

I think this was a very pretty speech, for a youth of twenty; and I confess
I look back upon it, even now, with complacency. If I occasionally betray
weakness of this character, I beg the reader to recollect that I am acting
in the part of an honest historian, and that it is my aim to conceal
nothing that ought to be known.