“Oh! as to that,” stammered out Tom, somewhat ashamed of his late warmth, “Trafford is perhaps the one exception to the sort of thing I am afraid of. He is a fine, manly, candid fellow, with no affectations nor any pretensions.” “A gentleman, sir,--just a gentleman, and of a very good type.” The last few lines of the letter were small and finely written, and cost the old man some time to decipher. At last he read them aloud. “'Am I asking what you would see any objection to accord me, if I entreat you to give me some letter of introduction or presentation to the Chief t Baron? I presume that you know him; and I presume that he might not refuse to know _me_. It is possible I may be wrong in either or both of these assumptions. I am sure you will be frank in your reply to this request of mine, and say No, if you dislike to say Yes. I made the acquaintance of Colonel Sewell, the Judge's step-son, at the Cape; but I suspect--I may be wrong--but I suspect that to be presented by the Colonel might not be the smoothest road to his Lordship's acquaintance,--I was going to write “favor,” but I have no pretension, as yet at least, to aspire that far.' “'The Colonel himself told me that his mother and Sir William never met without a quarrel. His affectionate remark was that the Chief Baron was the only creature in Europe whose temper was worse than Lady Lendrick's, and it would be a blessing to humanity if they could be induced to live together. “'I saw a good deal of the Se wells at the Cape. She is charming! She was a Dillon, and her mother a Lascelles, some forty-fifth cousin of my mother's,--quite enough of relationship, however, to excuse a very rapid intimacy, so that I dined there when I liked, and uninvited. I did not like _him_ so well; but then he beat me at billiards, and always won my money at _écarté_, and of course these are detracting ingredients which ought not to be thrown into the scale. “'How she sings! I don't know how you, with your rapturous love of music, would escape falling in love with her: all the more that she seems to me one who expects that sort of homage, and thinks herself defrauded if denied it. If the Lord Chief Baron is fond of ballads, he has been her captive this many a day. “'My love to Tom, if with you or within reach of you; and believe me, ever yours affectionately,--Lionel Trafford.'” “It was the eldest son who died,” said Tom, carelessly. “Yes, the heir. Lionel now succeeds to a splendid fortune and the baronetcy.” “He told me once that his father had made some sort of compact with his eldest son about cutting off the entail, in case he should desire to do it. In fact, he gave me to understand that he was n't a favorite with his father, and that, if by any course of events he were likely to succeed to the estate, it was more than probable his father would use this power, and merely leave him what he could not alienate,--a very small property that pertained to the baronetage.”