"I'm coming to that—I'm coming to that. Guy came down here, but did not tell me one word of his having ever met the family, but begged me to give him an introduction to them, as they were in Paris, where he was going on a short leave; and the first thing I heard of the matter was a letter from the papa, demanding from me if Guy was to be my heir, and asking 'how far his attentions in his family, met with my approval.'"
"Then how did you know sir that they were previously known to each other?"
"The family lawyer told me, who heard it all talked over."
"And why, then, did Guy get the letter of introduction from you, when he was already acquainted with them?"
"I am sure I cannot tell, except that you know he always does every thing unlike every one else, and to be sure the letter seems to have excited some amusement. I must show you his answer to my first note to know how all was going on; for I felt very anxious about matters, when I heard from some person who had met them, that Guy was everlastingly in the house, and that Lord Callonby could not live without him."
"Lord who, sir?" said I in a voice that made the old man upset his glass, and spring from his chair in horror.
"What the devil is the matter with the boy. What makes you so pale?"
"Whose name did you say at that moment, sir," said I with a slowness of speech that cost me agony.
"Lord Callonby, my old schoolfellow and fag at Eton."
"And the lady's name, sir?" said I, in scarcely an audible whisper.