which a skillful physiognomist might have read—If he means me, he is mistaken.
"Your cousin, Lord Chatterton, has found interest, Sir Edward," continued the peer, "to obtain his father's situation; and if reports speak truth, he wishes to become more nearly related to you, baronet."
"I do not well see how that can happen," said Sir Edward with a smile, and who had not art enough to conceal his thoughts, "unless he takes my sister, here."
The cheeks of both the young ladies now vied with the rose; and the peer, observing he had touched on forbidden ground, added, "Chatterton was fortunate to find friends able to bear up against the powerful interest of Lord Haverford."
"To whom was he indebted for the place, my lord?" asked Mrs. Wilson.
"It was whispered at court, madam," said the earl, sensibly lowering his voice, and speaking with an air of mystery, "and a lord of the bed-chamber is fonder of discoveries than a lord of the council—that his Grace of Derwent threw the whole of his parliamentary interest into the scale on the baron's side, but you are not to suppose," raising his hand gracefully, with a wave of rejection, "that I speak from authority; only a surmise, Sir Edward, only a surmise, my lady."
"Is not the name of the Duke of Derwent, Denbigh?" inquired Mrs. Wilson, with a thoughtful manner.
"Certainly, madam, Denbigh," replied the earl, with a gravity with which he always spoke of dignities; "one of our most ancient names, and descended on the female side from the Plantagenets and Tudors."
He now rose to take his leave, and on bowing to the younger ladies, laughingly repeated his intention of bringing his cousin (an epithet he never omitted) Pendennyss to their feet.
"Do you think, sister," said Lady Moseley, after the earl had retired, "that Mr. Denbigh is of the house of Derwent?"
"I cannot say," replied Mrs. Wilson, musing, "yet it is
