After a time, Mrs. Bradfort, who was very particular in the
observance of forms, gaily called on Mr. Hardinge for his toast.
"My dear Mrs. Bradfort," said the divine, good-humouredly, "if it were
not in your own house, and contrary to all rule to give a person who
is present, I certainly should drink to yourself. Bless me, bless me,
whom shall I give? I suppose I shall not be permitted to give our new
Bishop, Dr. Moore?"
The cry of "No Bishop!" was even more unanimous than it is at this
moment, among those who, having all their lives dissented from
episcopal authority, fancy it an evidence of an increasing influence
to join in a clamour made by their own voices; and this, moreover, on
a subject that not one in a hundred among them has given himself the
trouble even to skim. Our opposition--in which Mrs. Bradfort joined,
by the way--was of a very different nature, however; proceeding from a
desire to learn what lady Mr. Hardinge could possibly select, at such
a moment. I never saw the old gentleman so confused before. He
laughed, tried to dodge the appeal, fidgeted, and at last fairly
blushed. All this proceeded, not from any preference for any
particular individual of the sex, but from natural diffidence, the
perfect simplicity and nature of his character, which caused him to be
abashed at even appearing to select a female for a toast.
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