“You are too good a herald, Sir Frederic,” she said, “not to know the Danverses of Dorsetshire.”

“I shall be proud,” replied the baronet, “to make the acquaintance of Miss Danvers.”

“She has come to my poor castle,” continued Miss Sherwood, “like the distressed princess in the Faery Queen, and I must look out for some red-cross knight to be her champion, and redress her wrongs.”

“It is not the first time,” said the lady thus introduced, “that I have heard of the name of Sir Frederic Beaumantle.”

“I dare say not, I dare say not,” answered the gratified baronet.  “Mine, I may venture to say, is an historic name.  Did you ever peruse, Miss Danvers, a work entitled ‘The History of the County of Huntingdon?’ You would find in it many curious particulars relating to the Beaumantles, and one anecdote especially, drawn, I may say, from the archives of our family, which throws a new light upon the reign and character of Charles II.  It is a very able performance is this ’History of the County of Huntingdon;’ it is written by a modest and ingenious person of my acquaintance, and I felt great pleasure in lending him my poor assistance in the compilation of it.  My name is mentioned in the preface.  Perhaps,” he added with a significant smile, “it might have claimed a still more conspicuous place; but I hold it more becoming in persons of rank to be the patrons than the competitors of men of letters.”

“I should think,” said Miss Danvers very quietly, “it were the more prudent plan for them to adopt.  But what is this anecdote you allude to?”

“An ancestor of mine—­But I am afraid,” said the baronet, casting a deprecatory look at Miss Sherwood, “that some here have read it, or heard me repeat it before.”

“Oh, pray proceed,” said the young lady appealed to.

“An ancestor of mine,” resumed the baronet, “on being presented at the Court of Charles II., soon after the Restoration, attracted the attention of that merry monarch and his witty courtiers, by the antique fashion of his cloak.  ‘Beaumantle!  Beaumantle!’ said the king, ’who gave thee that name?’ My ancestor, who was a grave man, and well brought up, answered, ‘Sire, my godfathers and my godmothers at my baptism.’  ’Well responded!’ said the king with a smile; ’and they gave thee thy raiment also, as it seems.’  These last words were added in a lower voice, and did not reach the ear of my ancestor, but they were reported to him immediately afterwards, and have been treasured up in our family ever since.  I thought it my duty to make it known to the world as an historical fact, strikingly illustrative of a very important period in our annals.”

“Why, your name,” said Miss Danvers, “appears to be historical in more senses than one.”

“I hope soon—­but I would not wish this to go beyond the present company,” said Sir Frederic, and he looked round the circle with a countenance of the most imposing solemnity—­“I hope soon that you will hear of it being elevated to the peerage—­that is, when Sir Robert Peel comes into power.”