"Oh, sir, very like his father. I shall be proud to present him to you."

"Ma'am, I thank you. I will have the honour to call--"

And thus is explained how Jasper Losely has knocked at Mrs. Haughton's
door; has walked up her stairs; has seated himself in her drawing-room,
and is now edging his chair somewhat nearer to her, and throwing into his
voice and looks a degree of admiration which has been sincerely kindled
by the aspect of her elegant apartments.

Jessica Haughton was not one of those women, if such there be, who do not
know when a gentleman is making up to them. She knew perfectly well that
with a very little encouragement her visitor would declare himself a
suitor. Nor, to speak truth, was she quite insensible to his handsome
person, nor quite unmoved by his flatteries. She had her weak points,
and vanity was one of them. Nor conceived she, poor lady, the slightest
suspicion that Jasper Losely was not a personage whose attentions might
flatter any woman. Though lie had not even announced a name, but,
pushing aside the footman, had sauntered in with as familiar an ease as
if he had been a first cousin; though he had not uttered a syllable that
could define his station, or attest his boasted friendship with the dear
defunct, still Mrs. Haughton implicitly believed that she was with one of
those gay chiefs of ton who had glittered round her Charlie in that
earlier morning of his life, ere he had sold out of the Guards, and
bought himself out of jail; a lord, or an honourable at least; and she
was even (I shudder to say) revolving in her mind whether it might not be
an excellent thing for her dear Lionel if she could prevail on herself to
procure for him the prop and guidance of a distinguished and brilliant
father-in-law,--rich, noble, evidently good-natured, sensible,