His excellency Governor Fauquier came forward to welcome his guests, but started at the sight of Beatrice, and almost uttered an exclamation. For a moment he was staggered and said nothing. This soon passed, however, and by the time Mr. Effingham had accomplished his easy bow, the Governor was himself again and, like the elegant gentleman he was, made a low inclination before Beatrice. Then he made a pleasant allusion to the weather—that much-abused subject, which has extricated so many perishing conversations—and so, smiling agreeably, passed on.
Mr. Effingham advanced through the opening, on each side of which extended a row of brilliant forms, sparkling with lace and jewels, without any apparent consciousness that he and his companion were the observed of all observers—without being conscious, one would have said, of those murmured comments which greeted on every side the strange and novel scene. His manner to Beatrice, as he bent down to speak to her, was full of respectful and chivalric feeling; his eye was soft, his lip smiling; the highest lady of the land might well have felt an emotion of pleasure in so elegant and noble an exhibition of regard. And this was not affected by Mr. Effingham. By no means. We have failed to convey a truthful impression of this young gentleman's character if the reader has not, before this time, perceived that with all his woeful faults and failings Mr. Champ Effingham had much in his character of the bold gentleman—the ancient knight. With those thousand satirical or scornful eyes bent on her, Beatrice was dearer to him than she had ever been before. Those elegant ladies and gallant gentle men were saying with disdain, "a common actress!" Well, he would espouse the cause of that girl they scorned against them all and treat her like a queen! Never had she had more complete possession of his heart; never had his heart thrilled so deliciously at the contact of her hand, resting upon his arm.
