"Who is this Mr. Read is convoying this way?" he inquired. "I ought to know him."
"He is a stranger to me," replied Ida.
"Miss Ross, Mr. Copeland fears you will not recognise him, without a second introduction," said the host.
"And Mr. Copeland's fears were not groundless," said that gentleman, when his brother-in-law was out of hearing. "A less modest individual than myself might be dubious of the durability of an impression, made under such circumstances, as our briefest of brief interviews,—when I could have been, at best, but a fourth-rate attraction. Mr. Dana—I believe! I need not excuse myself for not observing you before. This is a brilliant assembly, Miss Ross. I have been rating my excellent brother-in-law"—there was the least curl of scorn upon his handsome mouth as he pronounced these words—"for deserting this galaxy of beauty to seek a mate in our gloomier regions."
"Isolated stars often dispense more light than the millions composing the galaxy," answered Ida.
"I have thought the same since I reached this corner," he returned, gallantly. "I parted with a friend of yours, yesterday, who would not have granted me time to say a word for myself, if I had engaged to deliver a quarter of the messages he charged me with."
"Ah! who was so unreasonable?"
"Mr. Germaine," he replied, smiling, as the blood rose to her cheek. "He enacted Telemachus last summer, with a difference in the object of his search."
"But with a like termination," said Charley, who seemed to understand the allusion.