Their conversation became stilted. "Not so, Sir Rowland," returned Jonathan; "you are my prisoner. Under the circumstances you must permit me to be the best judge of the identity of the young lady who did me the honour, as an old family friend, of dining with me. “Great Scott!” he exclaimed huskily. I almost died from this flu. Your history, your actions, nay, your very thoughts are better known to me than to your spiritual adviser. ” The young man accepted the letter and the message, and seemed about to close the door when a lady issued from one of the front rooms and intervened. The man was thick set, with a bright roving eye. The attempt was unsuccessful. “Aunt!” she said, “I can’t—” Then she caught a wild appeal in her aunt’s blue eye, halted, and the door clicked upon them. On the contrary, his glass was never idle, and finding it not filled quite so frequently as he desired, he applied himself, notwithstanding the expressive looks and muttered remonstrances of Mr.
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