nd Boniface
Newt, Son, & Company, Dry Goods on Commission, Esquire," replied Lawrence
Newt, with perfect gravity.

Arthur looked at him bewildered.

"Don't you know my nephew, Abel Newt?"

"No, not personally. I've heard of him, of course."

"Well, he's a very handsome young man; and though he be dark, he may
also be Endymion. Why not? Look at him; there he sits. 'Tis the one just
raising the glass to his lips."

Lawrence Newt bent his head as he spoke toward the gay revelers, who sat,
half a dozen in number, and the oldest not more than twenty-five, all
dandies, all men of pleasure, at a neighboring table spread with a
profuse and costly feast. Abel was the leader, and at the moment Arthur
Merlin and Lawrence Newt turned to look he was telling some anecdote to
which they all listened eagerly, while they sipped the red wine of
France, poured carefully from a bottle reclining in a basket, and
delicately coated with dust. Abel, with his glass in his hand and the
glittering smile in his eye, told the story with careless grace, as if
he were more amused with the listeners' eagerness than with the anecdote
itself. The extreme gayety of his life was already rubbing the boyish
bloom from his face, but it developed his peculiar beauty more strikingly
by removing that incongruous innocence which belongs to every boyish
countenance.

As he looked at him, Arthur Merlin was exceedingly impressed by the air
of reckless grace in his whole appearance, which harmonized so entirely
with his face. Lawrence Newt watched his friend as the latter gazed at
Abel. Lawrence always saw a great deal whenever he looked any where.
Perhaps he perceived the secret dissatisfaction and feeling of sudden
alarm which, without any apparent reason, Arthur felt as he looked at
Abel.

But the longer Arthur Merlin looked at Abel the more curiously
perplexed he was. The feeling which, if he had not been a painter so
utterly devoted to his profession that all distractions were impossible,
might have been called a nascent jealousy, was gradually merged in a
half-consciousness that he had somewhere seen Abel Newt before, but
where, and under what circumstances, he could not possibly remember.
He watched him steadily, puzzling himself to recall that face.

Suddenly he clapped his hand upon the table. Lawrence Newt, who was
looking at him, saw the perplexity of his expression smooth itself away;
while Arthur Merlin, with an "oh!" of surprise, satisfaction