“Ah! do you know that at first I really took him for an old friend of mine, an American gentleman from—­Maryland, I believe.”

“Mr. Worth is from Maryland,” said Claudia.

“Then he is probably a relative of the gentleman in question.  The likeness is so very striking; indeed, if it were not that Mr.—­Worth, did you say his name was?—­is a rather larger man, I should take him to be Mr. Brudenell.  I wonder whether they are related?”

“I do not know,” said Claudia.  And of course she did not know; but notwithstanding that, the hot blood rushed up to her face, flushing it with a deep blush, for she remembered the fatal words that had forever affected Ishmael in her estimation.

“His mother was never married, and no one on earth knows who his father was.”

The viscount looked at her; he was a man accustomed to read much in little; but not always aright; he read a great deal in Claudia’s deep blush and short reply; but not the whole; he read that Claudia Merlin, the rich heiress, loved her father’s poor young law student; but no more; and he resolved to make the acquaintance of the young fellow, who must be related to the Brudenells, he thought, so as to see for himself what there was in him, beside his handsome person, to attract the admiration of Chief Justice Merlin’s beautiful daughter.

“He dances well; he carries himself like my friend Herman, also.  I fancy they must be nearly related,” he continued, as he watched Ishmael going through the quadrille.

“I am unable to inform you whether he is or not,” answered Claudia.

While they talked, the dance went on.  Presently it was ended.

“You must come up, now, and speak to Claudia.  She is the queen of the evening, you know!” said Ishmael’s gentle partner.

“I know it, dear Bee; and I am going to pay my respects; but let me find you a seat first,” replied the young man.

“No, I will go with you; I have not yet spoken to Claudia this evening,” said Bee.

Ishmael offered his arm and escorted her across the room to the sofa that was doing duty as throne for “the queen of the evening.”

“I am glad to see you looking so well, Bee!  Mr. Worth, I hope you are enjoying yourself,” was the greeting of Miss Merlin, as they came up.

Then turning towards the viscount, she said: 

“Beatrice, my dear, permit me—­Lord Vincent, my cousin, Miss Middleton.”

A low bow from the gentleman, a slight courtesy from the lady, and that was over.

“Lord Vincent—­Mr. Worth,” said Claudia.

Two distant bows acknowledged this introduction—­so distant that Claudia felt herself called upon to mediate, which she did by saying: 

“Mr. Worth, Lord Vincent has been particularly interested in you, ever since you entered the room.  He finds a striking resemblance between yourself and a very old friend of his own, who is also from your native county.”