Yet both were gravely self-possessed, and addressed each other as if they had never met before.
Then the banker called the attention of the young lady by his side: "My daughter." She raised her eyes and saw before her the idol of her secret worship, knowing him by his portrait at Lone.

She paled and flushed, while her father, with old-fashioned formality, was saying: "My daughter, let me introduce to your acquaintance, Mr.John Scott of the _National Liberator_.

You have read and admired his articles under the signature of Justus, you know!--Mr.Scott, my daughter, Miss Levison." Both bowed gravely, and as they looked up their eyes met in one swift and swiftly withdrawn glance.
And before a word could be exchanged between them the doors were thrown open and the butler announced: "My lady is served." "Sir Lemuel, will you give your arm to Lady -- --, and allow me to take Miss Levison in to dinner ?" said the noble host, drawing the young lady's hand within his arm.
"Mr.John Scott" took in Lady Belgrave.
At dinner Miss Levison found herself seated nearly opposite to the young marquis.

She could not watch him, she could not even lift her eyes to his face, but she could not chose but listen to every syllable that fell from his lips.

It was the cue of some of the leading politicians present to draw out this young apostle of the reform cause.