Chapter 7

"There is a history in all men's lives, Figuring the nature of the
times deceased, The which observed, a man may prophesy With a near
aim, of the main chance of things, As yet not come to life."

KING HENRY VI

The following morning the baronet breakfasted in Hudson Square. While
at table, little was said concerning the events of the past night,
though sundry smiles were exchanged, as eye met eye, and the
recollection of the mystification returned. Grace alone looked grave,
for she had been accustomed to consider Mrs. Legend a very
discriminating person, and she had even hoped that most of those who
usually figured in her rooms, were really the clever persons they
laid claim to be.

The morning was devoted to looking at the quarter of the town which
is devoted to business, a party having been made for that express
purpose under the auspices of John Effingham. As the weather was very
cold, although the distances were not great, the carriages were
ordered, and they all set off about noon.

Grace had given up expecting a look of admiration from Eve in behalf
of any of the lions of New-York, her cousin having found it necessary
to tell her, that, in a comparative sense at least, little was to be
said in behalf of these provincial wonders. Even Mademoiselle
Viefville, now that the freshness, of her feelings were abated, had
dropped quietly down into a natural way of speaking of these things;
and Grace, who was quick-witted, soon discovered that when she did
make any allusions to similar objects in Europe, it was always to
those that existed in some country town. A silent convention existed,
therefore, to speak no more on such subjects; or if any thing was
said, it arose incidentally and as inseparable from the regular
thread of the discourse.

When in Wall street, the carriages stopped and the gentlemen
alighted. The severity of the weather kept the ladies in the chariot,
where Grace endeavoured to explain things as well as she could to her
companions.

"What are all these people running after, so intently?" inquired
Mademoiselle Viefville, the conversation being in French, but which
we shall render freely into English, for the sake of the general
reader.

"Dollars, I believe, Mademoiselle; am I right, Grace?"

"I believe you are," returned Grace, laughing, "though I know little
more of this part of the town than yourself."

"_Quelle foule_! Is that building filled with dollars, into which the
gentlemen are now entering? Its steps are crowded."

"That is the _Bourse_, Mademoiselle, and it ought to be well lined,
by the manner in which some who frequent it live. Cousin Jack and Sir
George