"Sir Lemuel," said the host, lightly touching the art-critic on the shoulder.
The old gentleman turned around.
"Sir Lemuel, permit me to present to you Mr. John Jones—I beg pardon—Mr. John Scott, of the National Liberator—Mr. Scott, Sir Lemuel Levison, our member for Lone," said the minister.
Sir Lemuel Levison saw before him the young Marquis of Arondelle, whom he had know as a boy and young man for years in the Highlands, and of whom, indeed, he had purchased his life interest in Lone. But he gave no sign of this recognition.
The young marquis, on his part, had every reason to know the man who had succeeded, not to say supplanted, his father at Lone Castle. But by no sign did he betray this knowledge.
The recognition was mutual, instantaneous and complete. Yet both were gravely self-possessed, and addressed each other as if they had never met before.
Then the banker called the attention of the young lady by his side:
"My daughter."
She raised her eyes and saw before her the idol of her secret worship, knowing him by his portrait at Lone. She paled and flushed, while her father, with old-fashioned formality, was saying:
"My daughter, let me introduce to your acquaintance, Mr. John Scott of the National Liberator. You have read and admired his articles under the signature of Justus, you know!—Mr. Scott, my daughter, Miss Levison."