Raymond sat among them, though while he entered into the spirit of the
hour, his natural dignity never forsook him. He was gay, playful,
fascinating--but never did he overstep the modesty of nature, or the
respect due to himself, in his wildest sallies. Yet I own, that considering
the task which Raymond had taken on himself as Protector of England, and
the cares to which it became him to attend, I was exceedingly provoked to
observe the worthless fellows on whom his time was wasted, and the jovial
if not drunken spirit which seemed on the point of robbing him of his
better self. I stood watching the scene, while Adrian flitted like a shadow
in among them, and, by a word and look of sobriety, endeavoured to restore
order in the assembly. Raymond expressed himself delighted to see him,
declaring that he should make one in the festivity of the night.

This action of Adrian provoked me. I was indignant that he should sit at
the same table with the companions of Raymond--men of abandoned
characters, or rather without any, the refuse of high-bred luxury, the
disgrace of their country. "Let me entreat Adrian," I cried, "not to
comply: rather join with me in endeavouring to withdraw Lord Raymond from
this scene, and restore him to other society."

"My good fellow," said Raymond, "this is neither the time nor place for the
delivery of a moral lecture: take my word for it that my amusements and
society are not so bad as you imagine. We are neither hypocrites or fools
--for the rest, 'Dost thou think because thou art virtuous, there shall be
no more cakes and ale?'"

I turned angrily away: "Verney," said Adrian, "you are very cynical: sit
down; or if you will not, perhaps, as you are not a frequent visitor, Lord
Raymond will humour you, and accompany us, as we had previously agreed
upon, to parliament."