England. I own another in Surrey. Mr. Abbot, I am an English baronet, and
I have simply been a visitor and traveler in this country during the last
year."

"You, an English baronet!" exclaimed Mr. Abbot, excitedly, a vivid flush
suffusing his face, then quickly receding, leaving him deadly pale.

"Yes, sir; but, pray believe me, I had no intention of boasting of either
my wealth or title," observed the young man modestly.

"Oh!" sighed the sick man. "I am afraid then that you can never marry
Virgie."

"Sir! Why not? What is there in what I have told you to debar me from
making your daughter my wife? I should suppose you would feel that I have
it in my power to make her all the happier on account of it."

"But you do not know, you cannot understand, you English are so proud, so
tenacious of honor and caste. Ah, my poor child!" Mr. Abbot cried,
incoherently, and appearing greatly agitated and distressed.

"I am sure, my friend, I cannot comprehend this excessive emotion," Sir
William--as we shall call him henceforth--remarked.

"Would you be willing to marry a woman whose name is irretrievably linked
with disgrace?" Mr. Abbot asked, while cold perspiration started out upon
his forehead, and his face was almost convulsed with his anguish of mind.

He knew that Virgie had grown to love this man. He was conscious of the
pride and prejudices of the English aristocracy, and he believed that when