“Well, no; perhaps not quite alike. I only saw his beard, you know. No doubt it was stupid, but I did it.” “Why didn’t you take it off again?” asked the sister. “O Jane, if you’d only think of it! Could you?” Then, of course, all that occurred was explained,--how they had been stopped on their journey, how Brown had made the best apology in his power, and how Jones had travelled with them and had never spoken a word. The gentleman had only taken his new name a week since, but of course had had his new card printed immediately, “I’m sure I should have thought of it, if they hadn’t made a mistake of the first name. Charles said it was like Barnaby Rudge.” “Not at all like Barnaby Rudge,” said Jane: “Charles Burnaby Jones is a very good name.” “Very good indeed--and I’m sure that after a little bit he won’t be at all the worse for the accident.” Before dinner the secret had been told no further, but still there had crept about among the Thompsons, and, indeed, down-stairs also among the retainers, a feeling that there was a secret. The old housekeeper was sure that Miss Mary, as she still called Mrs. Brown, had something to tell, if she could only be induced to tell it, and that this something had reference to Mr. Jones’s personal comfort. The head of the family, who was a sharp old gentleman, felt this also, and the member of Parliament, who had an idea that he especially should never be kept in the dark, was almost angry. Mr. Jones, suffering from some kindred feeling throughout the dinner, remained silent and unhappy. When two or three toasts had been drunk--the Queen’s health, the old gentleman’s health, the young couple’s health, Brown’s health, and the general health of all the Thompsons--then tongues were loosened and a question was asked. “I know that there has been something doing in Paris between these young people that we haven’t heard as yet,” said the uncle. Then Mrs. Brown laughed, and Jane, laughing too, gave Mr. Jones to understand that she, at any rate, knew all about it. “If there is a mystery, I hope it will be told at once,” said the member of Parliament angrily. “Come, Brown, what is it?” asked another male cousin. “Well, there was an accident. I’d rather Jones should tell,” said he. Jones’s brow became blacker than thunder, but he did not say a word. “You mustn’t be angry with Mary,” Jane whispered into her lover’s ear. “Come, Mary, you never were slow at talking,” said the uncle. “I do hate this kind of thing,” said the member of Parliament. “I will tell it all,” said Mrs. Brown, very nearly in tears, or else pretending to be very nearly in tears. “I know I was very wrong, and I do beg his pardon; and if he won’t say that he forgives me, I never shall be happy again.” Then she clasped her hands, and, turning round, looked him piteously in the face. “Oh, yes; I do forgive you,” said Mr. Jones.