es!"

"I hope not--I hope not!" exclaimed the baronet; "I think there must be
a law against _that_. As it is, I shall be obliged to put Bart. after my
name, as my worthy grandfather used to do, in order to prevent
confusion; but England can't bear two Sir Wycherlys, any more than the
world can bear two suns. Is not that your opinion, Miss Mildred?"

The baronet had laughed at his own allusion, showing he spoke half
jocularly; but, as his question was put in too direct a manner to escape
general attention, the confused girl was obliged to answer.

"I dare say Mr. Wychecombe will never reach a rank high enough to cause
any such difficulty," she said; and it was said in all sincerity; for,
unconsciously perhaps, she secretly hoped that no difference so wide
might ever be created between the youth and herself. "If he should, I
suppose his rights would be as good as another's, and he must keep his
name."

"In such a case, which is improbable enough, as Miss Mildred has so well
observed," put in Tom Wychecombe, "we should have to submit to the
_knighthood_, for that comes from the king, who might knight a
chimney-sweep, if he see fit; but a question might be raised as to the
_name_. It is bad enough as it is; but if it really got to be _two_ Sir
Wycherlys, I think my dear uncle would be wrong to submit to such an
invasion of what one might call his individuality, without making some
inquiry as to the right of the gentleman to one or both his names. The
result might show that the king had made a Sir Something Nobody."

The sneer and spite with which this was uttered, were too marked to
escape notice; and both Dutton and his wife felt it would be unpleasant
to mingle farther in the discourse. Still the last, submissive, rebuked,
and heart-broken as she was, felt a glow on her own pale cheek, as she
saw the colour mount in the face of Mildred, and she detected the strong
impulses that urged the generous girl herself to answer.

"We have now known Mr. Wychecombe several months," observed Mildred,
fastening her full, blue eye calmly on Tom's sinister-looking face; "and
we have never known any thing to cause us to think he would bear a
name--or names--that he does not at least think he has a right to."

This was said gently, but so distinctly, that every word entered fairly
into Tom Wychecombe's soul; who threw a quick, suspicious glance at the
lovely speaker, as if to ascertain how far she intended any allusion to
himself.