appreciate it. I
come here to ask plain questions honestly, and I insist, as my right, on
receiving answers in the same spirit. _You_, Mr. Streatfield, sought an
introduction to _me_--you professed yourself attached to my daughter
Jane--your proposals were (I fear unhappily for _us_) accepted--your
wedding-day was fixed--and now, after all this, when you happen to
observe my daughter's twin-sister sitting opposite to you--"

"Her twin-sister!" exclaimed Mr. Streatfield; and his trembling hand
crumpled the leaves of the book, which he still held while he spoke.
"Why is it, intimate as I have been with your family, that I now know
for the first time that Miss Jane Langley has a twin-sister?"

"Do you descend, sir, to a subterfuge, when I ask you for an
explanation?" returned Mr. Langley, angrily. "You must have heard, over
and over again, that my children, Jane and Clara, were twins."

"On my word and honor, I declare that--"

"Spare me all appeals to your word or your honor, sir; I am beginning to
doubt both."

"I will not make the unhappy situation in which we are all placed, still
worse, by answering your last words, as I might, at other times, feel
inclined to answer them," said Mr. Streatfield, assuming a calmer
demeanor than he had hitherto displayed. "I tell you the truth, when I
tell you that, before to-day, I never knew that any of your children
were twins. Your daughter Jane has frequently spoken to me of her absent
sister Clara, but never spoke to me of her as her twin-sister. Until
to-day, I have had no opportunity of discovering the truth; for until
to-day, I have never met Miss Clara Langley since I saw her in the
balcony of the house in St. James's street. The only one of your
children who was never present during my intercourse with your family in
London, was your daughter Clara--the daughter whom I now know, for the
first time, as the young lady who really arrested my attention on my way
to the _levee_--whose affections it was really my object to win in
seeking an introduction to you. To _me_, the resemblance between the
twin-sisters has been a fatal resemblance; the long absence of one, a
fatal absence."

There was a momentary pause, as Mr. Streatfield sadly and calmly
pronounced the last words. Mr. Langley appeared to be absorbed in
thought. At length he proceeded, speaking to himself:--

"It _is_ strange! I remember that Clara left London on the day of the
_levee_, to set out on a visit to her