"I suppose not. But did you observe nothing interesting in the meeting between Mr. Howard and Miss Legare?"
"Oh, oh, oh, oh! Whew ew-ew-ew! Is that it?"
"Yes."
"That's what you meant when you pinched my arm black and blue?"
"Yes."
"A sorry dog. He never hinted one word about this to me."
"He had no right to do so, nor must you speak of it."
"Eh! why?"
"Because—but I had better tell you all about it. They met about three years ago for the first time. It was at Saratoga, where he was making quite a figure. The acquaintance had ripened to friendship, and something more when 'papa' bethought himself to inquire who this very distinguished-looking gentleman might be at home among his own people, and was informed that he was—a machinist by trade! Recall to mind the passion of Desdemonia's proud patrician 'pa' on discovering that he had a black-a-moor for a son-in-law, and you may be able remotely to conceive the consternation of Mr. Legare. He hurried his family away from Saratoga, and forbid the name of Howard to be mentioned in his presence. The lovers never corresponded, and never met until this evening! You may judge how much cause for speculation there is in this meeting."
"Yes—but within these three years great changes have taken place. Mr. Howard is a distinguished man—a man of fortune, and of acknowledged talent—one of the lawgivers of the nation. And Mr. Legare and his family are reduced from wealth to a moderate competency."