Audley's hand, as if mechanically, fell upon the newspaper,—fell upon that part of the columns devoted to births, deaths, and marriages. Randal stood by, and noted; then, bowing to L'Estrange, left the room.
"Audley," said L'Estrange, "I have had an adventure since I saw you,—an adventure that reopened the Past, and may influence my future."
"How?"
"In the first place, I have met with a relation of—of—the Avenels."
"Indeed! Whom,—Richard Avenel?"
"Richard—Richard—who is he? Oh, I remember, the wild lad who went off to America; but that was when I was a mere child."
"That Richard Avenel is now a rich, thriving trader, and his marriage is in this newspaper,—married to an Honourable Mrs. M'Catchley. Well, in this country who should plume himself on birth?"
"You did not say so always, Egerton," replied Harley, with a tone of mournful reproach.
"And I say so now pertinently to a Mrs. M'Catchley, not to the heir of the L'Estranges. But no more of these—these Avenels."
"Yes, more of them. I tell you I have met a relation of theirs—a nephew of—of—"