—Sorry to quit your lord—worships, I mean,—I don't know what I mean," she added, a little confused, and dropping a profound curtsey to the disguised noblemen, each of whom replied by a bow, worthy, in her opinion, of a prince of the blood at the least,—"but I've a few necessary orders to give below. ‘The cat’s foot, Hilary. I had a sort of idea,” he went on, “that you were starting life all over again, and it seemed awfully plucky. There's a friend of Sir James—a young man, an engraver of masquerade tickets and caricatures,—his name I believe is Hogarth. " "Och! if he's a friend o' yours, my dear joy, there's no more to be said; and right sorry am I, I struck him. ” They talked for a while in somewhat dreamy fashion, Anna especially being more silent than usual. "Couldn't you speak to him?" "What?—and be insulted for my trouble? No, thank you!" "That is it. But the figure was evidently too intent on peering within the ballroom to pay any attention to what might be occurring outside. Wood," said Jonathan, advancing towards him, and speaking in a low tone, "the secret of your adopted son's birth is known to me. .
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