“No doubt you will assure me that you have a heart of stone, and that at all events nothing could induce you to form a connection with a person beneath you in rank, unworthy the name of Hamilton, or who would be displeasing to your father; but as you have had the good fortune to be the firstborn, and consequently will inherit——” “Pardon me for interrupting you, but I really must set you right on that point—I am only number two.” “What, are you not John?” she asked, hastily. “Had my name been John, I should not have opened your letter; it was directed to——” “To Archibald Hamilton——” “Excuse me; the address was to A. Hamilton, Esq., Goldenen Hirsch, and——” “True, I ought to have thought of that before,” she said, mustering him from head to foot, while he began to feel some very uncomfortable misgivings. “Is it—no, it is not possible that you are little Archy?” “I am _not_ little Archy,” cried Hamilton, starting from his seat, and instinctively looking towards the door. “Then, pray, may I ask what is your name?” she said, leaning her arm on the table, and fixing her eyes on his face with a look of cool deliberation which completely deprived him of all remaining self-possession. “Alfred—Alfred Hamilton is my name,” he cried, in a voice which he could scarcely recognise to be his own; and unable any longer to endure so unpleasant a situation, he seized his hat, and a pair of gloves, which he afterwards found belonged to her, and rushed like a madman out of the room. He heard, or thought he heard, a stifled laugh—no matter—she might laugh if she pleased, he would laugh, too, and he attempted it on reaching his room, but the effort proved totally abortive; and after gasping once or twice for breath, he commenced striding up and down the room, talking angrily to himself. “This is too much! I certainly did not deserve such annoyance! Could I do more to prevent mistakes than send my card and show the letter? The disappointment, too! I rather took a fancy to this A. Z.; had even persuaded myself that I remembered having seen her when I was a child! Pshaw! after all, she must be an artful person. That sort of motherly, good-natured manner, was all affectation to draw me out; and what a precious fool I have made of myself, telling her all my intentions! Of course, she and her husband will laugh at me unmercifully, and tell everyone in the house. I must leave Seon directly—I—but no, she was not artful! What on earth could be her motive? No, I was altogether to blame myself, or rather that letter—the letter, the odious letter was the cause of all!” and he tore it angrily to atoms. At all events, this should be a lesson to him; he never would place himself in such a position again as long as he lived.