"I thought so," returned his companion, quietly.
"Did you?" asked the young man, looking surprised. "I compliment you upon your penetration then, for I have passed for one of your countrymen almost everywhere since coming to this country."
"I think you are an Englishman," said Mr. Abbot.
"I am, sir. I have an estate called Heathdale in the county of Hampshire, England. I own another in Surrey. Mr. Abbot, I am an English baronet, and I have simply been a visitor and traveler in this country during the last year."
"You, an English baronet!" exclaimed Mr. Abbot, excitedly, a vivid flush suffusing his face, then quickly receding, leaving him deadly pale.
"Yes, sir; but, pray believe me, I had no intention of boasting of either my wealth or title," observed the young man modestly.
"Oh!" sighed the sick man. "I am afraid then that you can never marry Virgie."
"Sir! Why not? What is there in what I have told you to debar me from making your daughter my wife? I should suppose you would feel that I have it in my power to make her all the happier on account of it."
"But you do not know, you cannot understand, you English are so proud, so tenacious of honor and caste. Ah, my poor child!" Mr. Abbot cried, incoherently, and appearing greatly agitated and distressed.
"I am sure, my friend, I cannot comprehend this excessive emotion," Sir William—as we shall call him henceforth—remarked.