o wit, but he looks like a
gentleman, and I dare say as husbands go he is suitable.

I am getting quite at home in the world, and can speak to any one. I
listen, and I do not talk much, only when I want to say something that
makes them think.

A very nice man sat next me to-day; he reminded me of the old generals at
Branches. We had quite a war of wits, and it stimulated me.

He told me, among other things, when he discovered who I was, that he had
known papa--papa was in the same Guards with him--and that he was the
best-looking man of his day. Numbers of women were in love with him, he
said, but he was a faithless being, and rode away.

"He probably enjoyed himself--don't you think so?--and he had the good
luck to die in his zenith," I said.

"He was once engaged to Lady Merrenden, you know. She was Lady Sophia
Vavasour then, and absolutely devoted to him, but Mrs. Carruthers came
between them and carried him off--she was years older than he was, too,
and as clever as paint."

"Poor papa seems to have been a weak creature, I fear."

"All men are weak," he said.

"And then he married and left Mrs. Carruthers, I suppose?" I asked. I
wanted to hear as much as I could.

"Ye-e-s," said my old colonel. "I was best man at the wedding."

"And what was she like, my mamma?"

"She was the loveliest creature I ever saw," he said--"as lovely as you,
only you are the image of your father, all but the hair--his was fair."

"No one has ever said I was lovely before. Oh, I am so glad if you think
so," I said. It did please me. I have often been told I am attractive and
extraordinary, and wonderful and divine, but never just lovely. He would
not say any more about my parents, except that they hadn't a sou to live
on, and were not very happy--Mrs. Carruthers took care of that.

Then, as every one was going, he said: "I am awfully glad to have met you.
We must be pals, for the sake of old times," and he gave me his card for
me to keep his address, and told me if ever I wanted a friend to send him
a line--Colonel Tom Carden, The Albany.

I promised I would.

"You might give me away at my wedding," I said, gayly. "I am thinking of
getting married, some day!"

"That I will," he promised; "and, by Jove! the man will be a fortunate
fellow."

Lady Ver and I drove after luncheon--me paid some calls, and went in to
tea with the Montgomeries, who had just arrived at Brown's Hotel for a
week's shopping.

"Aunt Katherine brin