A lively conversation follows, the subject of which ends with an inquiry on the part of the young man to the elder sister.
“Do you anticipate much pleasure?” referring to the play, to which the other replies:
“Oh, it will be delightful.” Then to the younger, “And you, Cousin Clara, do you think that these Virginia Comedians, as they call themselves, will afford you a very pleasant entertainment?”
“Oh, yes—I am sure I shall be pleased—you know I have never seen a play.”
“But read a plenty?”
“Oh, yes; and I like the ‘Merchant of Venice.’ The character of Portia is so delicate and noble.”
“Quite true; an excellent criticism; better than anything in Congreve I think, though I should hesitate to advance such an opinion in London.”
“Who will act Portia?”
“I don’t know, but can tell you without much difficulty. Here is a play-bill that I sent to town for yesterday.”
And Mr. Effingham drew daintily from his coat pocket a small, roughly printed hand-bill, which he spread out before the eyes of Clara.