"These Denbighs could not be people of much importance—I have never heard the name before."
"It is the family name of the Duke of Derwent, I believe," dryly remarked Sir Edward.
"Oh, I am sure neither the old man nor his son looked much like a duke, or so much as an officer either," exclaimed Mrs. Jarvis, who thought the latter rank the dignity in degree next below nobility.
"There sat, in the parliament of this realm, when I was a member, a General Denbigh," said Mr. Benfield, with his usual deliberation; "he was always on the same side with Lord Gosford and myself. He and his friend, Sir Peter Howell, who was the admiral that took the French squadron, in the glorious administration of Billy Pitt, and afterwards took an island with this same General Denbigh; aye, the old admiral was a hearty blade; a good deal such a looking man as my Hector would make."
Hector was Mr. Benfield's bull-dog.
"Mercy!" whispered John to Clara, "that's your grandfather that is to be, uncle Benfield is speaking of."
Clara smiled, as she ventured to say, "Sir Peter was Mrs. Ives's father, sir."
"Indeed!" said the old gentleman, with a look of surprise, "I never knew that before; I cannot say they resemble each other much."
"Pray, uncle, does Frank look much like the family?" asked John, with an air of unconquerable gravity.
"But, sir," interrupted Emily, "were General Denbigh and Admiral Howell related?"
"Not that I ever knew, Emmy dear. Sir Frederick Denbigh did not look much like the admiral; he rather resembled"—gathering himself up into an air of formality, and bowing stiffly to Colonel Egerton—"this gentleman, here."
"I have not the honor of the connection," observed the colonel, withdrawing behind the chair of Jane.
Mrs. Wilson changed the conversation to one more general; but the little that had fallen from Mr. Benfield gave reason for believing a connection, in some way of which
