"You certainly did look a little amazed when I pretended to recognize you," remarked Miss Vernon, "but only for a moment. There was a Mr. Harcourt I used to meet at Lady Desmond's, a very fine gentleman; something like you, with whom for the sake of consistency I chose to identify you. You see, grandpapa, I could not have danced but for some such ruse, and when I proposed merely looking on, I did not calculate how the sounds and sights of a ball-room would rouse the old leaven within me."
"My good star was in the ascendant; but for your admirable treatment of my audacity I should have been still ignorant that I had old friends within reach."
"You would have stumbled on me in some of your sketching expeditions," observed the Colonel.
I exclaimed hastily "Yes, but—" and stopping my imprudent revelations, rose to open the door for Miss Vernon, who left us, saying she had outstaid the proper interval for ladies. We soon followed her, and stood gazing at a fine harvest moon, which was gradually silvering the rocks and the river, as daylight disappeared, until the arrival of Miss Vernon's guests speedily broke in upon our pleasant reminiscent chat, and I was formally introduced.
Mrs. Winter looked rather puzzled. "I thought, my dear, it was all a mistake, your dancing with this gentleman?"
"Well, Mrs. Winter, the whole affair is now in such an entanglement of mistakes that I advise you not to attempt unravelling it; rest content with the assurance that Captain Egerton is a bonâ fide old acquaintance, fully recognised by grandpapa and myself."
"I am sure I never meant I doubted it," said Kate's ex-chaperon, with a little twittering embarrassed laugh, "but"—
"I am going to make tea, and you had better make your peace with Captain Egerton, whom you evidently doubt," returned Miss Vernon.
I seated myself beside Mrs. Winter and drew her into conversation, by praising the old town and its locale, with very genuine warmth; it was her native place, and my appreciation of it seemed to open her heart. We then in some imperceptible manner glided into natural history, and I was listening with every appearance of thrilling interest, to a circumstantial account of the habits and customs of a pug dog, called Fan, when Miss Vernon approached with a cup of tea, whereupon my informant rose, saying she would go to the tea table, around which we all now assembled.
"Captain Egerton is a brother of the brush, Mr. Winter," said Miss Vernon.