The Jacobite. Hogarth, didn't I see you last night at the ridotto with Lady Thornhill and her pretty daughter?" "Me!—no, Sir," stammered Hogarth, colouring. Like the flaws of an old marble. This woman, contrary to his custom, he answered. ‘He’s already spoken for, Melusine. ” A dull flush burned upon his cheeks. Arrived at the audience-chamber, he set down the light upon a stand, threw open the door, and announced in a loud voice, but with the perfect intonation of the person he represented,—"Sir Rowland Trenchard. “My cab with all that luggage would give the whole show away.
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