Kitty was as much astonished as her grandmother, and even the son was a little mystified.  The latter remarked that “the world was making great head-way in all such things, and, for his part, he did not see how the painters and authors found out all they drew and recorded.”

The reader may easily imagine that half a day spent in such company was not entirely thrown away.  Still, half a day sufficed; and I went to the Old Coffee-house at one, to eat a sandwich and drink a glass of porter; that being the inn then most frequented for such purposes, especially by the merchants.  I was in my box, with the curtain drawn, when a party of three entered that which adjoined it, ordering as many glasses of punch; which in that day was a beverage much in request of a morning, and which it was permitted even to a gentleman to drink before dining.  It was the sherry-cobbler of the age; although I believe every thing is now pronounced to be out of fashion before dinner.

As the boxes were separated merely by curtains, it was impossible to avoid hearing any conversation that passed in the one adjoining my own, especially when the parties took no pains to speak low, as happened to be the case with my three neighbours.  Consequently, I recognised the voices of Andrew Drewett and Rupert Hardinge in an instant;—­that of the third person being unknown to me.

“Well, Norton,” said Rupert, a little affectedly as to manner, “you have got Drewett and myself down here among you traders, and I hope you will do the honours of the place, in a way to confer on the latter some credit.  A merchant is nothing without credit, you know.”

“Have no apprehensions for your gentility, Hardinge,” returned the person addressed.  “Many of the first persons in town frequent this house, at this hour, and its punch is renowned.  By-the-way, I saw in a paper, the other day, Rupert, that one of your relatives is dead—­Miss Grace Wallingford, your sister’s old associate.”

A short pause followed, during which I scarcely breathed.

“No, not a relation,” Rupert at length answered.  “Only my father’s ward.  You know how it is in the country:  the clergyman being expected to take care of all the sick, and all the orphans.”

“But these Wallingfords are people altogether above standing in need of favours,” Drewett hastily observed.  “I have been at their place, and really it is a respectable spot.  As for Miss Wallingford, she was a most charming girl, and her death will prove a severe blow to your sister, Hardinge.”

This was said with so much feeling, that I could almost forgive the speaker for loving Lucy; though I question if I could ever truly forgive him for being beloved by her.

“Why, yes,” rejoined Rupert, affecting an indifference that I could detect he was far from feeling, “Grace was a good creature; though, living so much with her in childhood, she had less interest in my eyes, perhaps, than she might have had in those of one less accustomed to see her.  Notwithstanding, I had a certain sort of regard for Grace, I will confess.”