I am twenty-six, you know,
and so no one ever associates us together in any kind of gossip.
She is the very quintessence of fashion, and I am one of the
danglers whose own light is made brighter by the reflection of
her rays. Do you see the point? Well, then, in return for my
attentions, she takes a very sisterly interest in my future wife,
and has adroitly managed to let me know of her niece, a certain
Anna Ruthven, who, inasmuch as I am tired of city belles, will
undoubtedly suit my fancy, said Anna being very fresh, very
artless, and very beautiful withal. She is also niece to Mrs.
Meredith, whose only brother married very far beneath him, when
he took to wife the daughter of a certain old-fashioned Captain
Humphreys, a pillar, no doubt, in your church. This young Ruthven
was drowned, or hung, or something, and the sister considers it
as another proof of his wife's lack of refinement and discretion
that at her death, which happened when Anna was three years old,
she left her child to the charge of her own parents, Captain
Humphreys and spouse, rather than to Mrs. Meredith's care, and
that, too, in the very face of the lady's having stood as sponsor
for the infant, an act which you will acknowledge was very
unnatural and ungrateful in Mrs.
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