Hemming with an air and resettling himself as Clifford approached, the
squire thus skilfully commenced the attack "Ah, ha! my good Captain
Clifford, and how do you do? I saw you (and I am very glad, my friend,
as every one else is, to see you) at a distance. And where have you left
my daughter?"

"Miss Brandon is dancing with Mr. Muskwell, sir," answered Clifford.

"Oh! she is! Mr. Muskwell,--humph! Good family the Muskwells,--came
from Primrose Hall. Pray, Captain, not that I want to know for my own
sake, for I am a strange, odd person, I believe, and I am thoroughly
convinced (some people are censorious, and others, thank God, are not!)
of your respectability,--what family do you come from? You won't think
my--my caution impertinent?" added the shrewd old gentleman, borrowing
that phrase which he thought so friendly in the mouth of Lord Mauleverer.

Clifford coloured for a moment, but replied with a quiet archness of
look, "Family! oh, my dear sir, I come from an old family,--a very old
family indeed."

"So I always thought; and in what part of the world?"

"Scotland, sir,--all our family come from Scotland; namely, all who live
long do,--the rest die young."

"Ay, particular air does agree with particular constitutions. I, for
instance, could not live in all countries; not--you take me--in the
North!"