"Ah! And I suppose sketches with her governess?" "Yes." "As I imagined," thought Wilton, "my pretty companion is the governess. Perhaps she will be in the drawing-room when we go there. If so, I must lay the train for some future meeting." "Pray, Colonel Wilton, are you any relation to a Mr. St. George Wilton we met at Baden last summer? He was, or is, _attaché_ somewhere." "He has the honor of being my first cousin once removed, or my third cousin twice removed--some relation, at all events. I am not at all well up in the ramifications of the family." "Well, he is a very agreeable person, I assure you, quite a favorite with every one, and speaks all sorts of languages. There was a Russian princess at Baden, quite wild about him." "Is it possible? These fair barbarians are impressionable, however. I have met the man you mention years ago. We were at that happy period when one can relieve the overburdened heart by a stand-up fight, and I have a delightful recollection of thrashing him." Miss Saville laughed, and then said, "I hope you will be better friends when you meet again. I believe he is coming here next week." "Oh, I promise to keep the peace--unless, indeed, I see him greatly preferred before me," returned Wilton, with a rather audacious look, which by no means displeased Miss Saville, who was of the order of young ladies that prefer a bold wooer. While the talk flowed glibly at Sir Peter's end of the table, Lady Fergusson was delicately cross-examining Moncrief as to the social standing of his friend. "Try a little melon, Major Moncrief. Pray help yourself. That port is, I believe, something remarkable. And you were saying Colonel Wilton is related to that curious old Lord St. George. We met a cousin of his--his heir, in fact--abroad last year, a very charming young man." "Not his heir, Lady Fergusson, for my friend Ralph is the heir. I am quite sure of that." "Indeed!" returned Lady Fergusson, blandly. "I dare say you are right;" and her countenance assumed a softer expression while she continued to bestow most flattering attentions upon the rather obtuse major. The after-dinner separation seemed very long to Wilton, although he was a good deal interested by his host's observations upon Eastern matters; for Sir Peter was a shrewd, intelligent man; but at last they joined the ladies, and found their numbers augmented by a little girl of twelve or thirteen, and a rigid lady in gray silk, who was playing a duet with Miss Gertrude Saville. Wilton betook himself, coffee-cup in hand, to Miss Saville, who was turning over a book of photographs in a conspicuously-disengaged position. "I have had quite an interesting disquisition with your father on the East and China. He evidently knows his subject." "Sir Peter is not my father," said the young lady, with a tinge of haughtiness. "True. I forgot," apologetically. "Ah! that is your little artist-sister. I am very fond of children."