wonder who they are!" thought the master of the ceremonies. "Pray,
sir," said he, in a low tone, "is that gentle man, that tall gentleman,
any way related to Lord ----------? I cannot but think I see a family
likeness."

"Not in the least related to his lordship," answered the stranger; "but
he is of a family that have made a noise in the world; though he, as
well as my other friend, is merely a commoner!" laying a stress on the
last word.

"Nothing, sir, can be more respectable than a commoner of family,"
returned the polite Mr. -------, with a bow.

"I agree with you, sir," answered the stranger, with another. "But,
heavens!"--and the stranger started; for at that moment his eye caught
for the first time, at the far end of the room, the youthful and
brilliant countenance of Lucy Brandon,--"do I see rightly, or is that
Miss Brandon?"

"It is indeed that lovely young lady," said Mr. -------. "I congratulate
you on knowing one so admired. I suppose that you, being blessed with
her acquaintance, do not need the formality of my introduction?"

"Umph!" said the stranger, rather shortly and uncourteously. "No!
Perhaps you had better present me!"

"By what name shall I have that honour, sir?" discreetly inquired the
nomenclator.

"Clifford!" answered the stranger; "Captain Clifford!" Upon this the
prim master of the ceremonies, threading his path through the now
fast-filling room, approached towards Lucy to obey Mr. Clifford's
request. Meanwhile that gentleman, before he followed the steps of the
tutelary spirit of the place, paused and said to his friends, in a tone
careless yet not without command, "Hark ye, gentlemen; oblige me by
being as civil and silent as ye are able; and don't thrust yourselves
upon me, as you are accustomed to do, whenever you see no opportunity
of indulging me with that honour with the least show of propriety!" So
saying, and waiting no reply, Mr. Clifford hastened after the master of
the ceremonies.

"Our friend grows mighty imperious!" said Long Ned, whom our readers
have already recognized in the tall stranger.

"'T is the way with your rising geniuses," answered the moralizing
Augustus Tomlinson. "Suppose we go to the cardroom and get up a rubber!"

"Well thought of," said Ned, yawning,--a thing he was very apt to do
in society; "and I wish nothing worse to those who try our rubbers than
that they may be well cleaned by them." Upon this witticism the Colossus
of Roads, glancing tow