“Schoolmistress!—what do you mean?”
“Why, look here—you were a pretty sap to suppose her an heiress, and to make me believe it:—read this—I found it by chance, and, somehow, it got into my pocket.”
He handed the letter to Wallis, who, after looking over it, remarked, “I see nothing to the contrary in that. I suppose it came enclosed in an envelope from her uncle. Can it be possible that you presumed she had written instead of received it! ha! ha!”
The mystified dandy gave him a stare.
“And you never suspected that it was Miss North whose acquaintance you cut so cavalierly! It was, positively;—she gave her card to Mr. Oakley before she went away.”
“I don’t believe it!—why would she call herself Thompson?”
“She didn’t call herself Thompson—that was inferred to be her name, as it was her mother’s. I recollect very well of hearing at Saratoga that the old lady had had two husbands. The last was a Mr. Thompson. What an opportunity you have lost of making one of the greatest matches in the country!”
“It was all the fault of that rascally painter,” said Sutton, in much vexation; “I had commenced declaring myself the very day he excited me by his abominable caricature, and if it had not been for that I would have had an explanation.”
“I would make him repent it, if I were you—I’d challenge him.”
“But, you know that’s out of the question—a gentleman degrades himself by challenging an inferior,” and he walked up and down the room in great agitation.