"Is that all?" asked Esther with a laugh.
"I believe so, though he is capable of discovering no end of topics, since his device is, Never despair. He has imported from Persia, where he encountered infinite dangers, a certain very curious machine,—a little roof of colored silk extended upon ribs of whalebone, secured in turn to a rod of iron, and which is carried about at the end of a long handle as a protection against the rain. It is called an umbrella."
"What an odd idea!"
"In order to habituate people to the sight and usage of his instrument, Hanway selects rainy days for his perambulations, when he can spread his portable tent. The children throw mud at him and the serving maids laugh. It is free sport to try to crush his umbrella. They make all manner of fun of him, but perhaps it is wrong, since the folly of to-day is the wisdom of to-morrow."
At last Esther knew all the guests. Mr. Gibbon had named them all, except one whose name she did not inquire.
Seated at the extremity of the room, Frank every now and then allowed his sad, unfathomable eyes to wander towards the girl. Indifferent to all that was uttered about him, his melancholy contrasted powerfully with the joyous air which every face wore. Even though she smiled at Mr. Gibbon's quips and responded to the lively, caressing words of Lady Vereker, Miss Woodville was conscious of the espionage, and the sentiment it evoked was not displeasing to her.
The conversation became general, often rising far above whispered particularities. War became the topic, and the latest news from America. It was said that the savages who were fighting with the English had killed and eaten some American colonists, and not one of the European generals had raised a hand to stay the barbarity. A caricature, exposed at Humphrey's, depicted George III. taking part in the frightful orgy and disputing possession of a bone with an Indian chief.
"It is horrible!" cried Miss Burney; "our poor king has nothing whatever to do with it, but how can English gentlemen ally themselves with these cannibals?"
The casual mention of Cape Breton in the conversation reminded Mr. Burke of an anecdote. Every one present lapsed into silence to hear it.
"Indolent as may be our masters of to-day," he said, "they will never equal the sloth and ignorance of the late Duke of Newcastle. You cannot imagine his astonishment when one day some one informed him that Cape Breton was an island. 'A cape an island!' he exclaimed; 'I am amazed. I really must tell the king. He will be vastly diverted!' This man would have sacrificed cities and provinces without so much as a thought. But what mattered it to him, so long as he was minister!"