hams;
and old Dowager Lady Glenvarlogh--Colonel Stratford's cousin--who
flashed out in the evening sun from Dublin in thunder and dust and her
carriage-and-four, bringing her mild little country niece, who watched
her fat painted aunt all the time of dinner, with the corners of her
frightened little eyes, across the table; and spoke sparingly, and ate
with diffidence; and Captain Devereux was there; and the next beau who
appeared was--of all men in the world--Mr. Mervyn! and Aunt Becky
watched, and saw with satisfaction, that he and Gertrude met as formally
and coldly as she could have desired. And then there was an elaborate
macaroni, one of the Lord Lieutenant's household,--Mr. Beauchamp; and
last, Lord Castlemallard, who liked very well to be the chief man in the
room, and dozed after dinner serenely in that consciousness, and loved
to lean back upon his sofa in the drawing-room, and gaze in a dozing,
smiling, Turkish reverie, after Gertrude Chattesworth and pretty Lilias,
whom he admired; and when either came near enough, he would take her
hand and say,--'Well, child, how do you do?--and why don't you speak to
your old friend? You charming rogue, you know I remember you no bigger
than your fan. And what mischief have you been about--eh? What mischief
have you been about, I say, young gentlewoman? Turning all the pretty
fellows' heads, I warrant you--eh!--turning their heads?' And he used to
talk this sort of talk very slowly, and to hold their hands all the
while, and even after this talk was exhausted, and grin sleepily, and
wag his head, looking with a glittering, unpleasant gaze in their faces
all the time. But at present we are all at dinner, in the midst of the
row which even the best bred people, assembled in sufficient numbers,
will make over that meal.

Devereux could not help seeing pretty Lilias over the way, who was
listening to handsome Mervyn, as it seemed, with interest, and talking
also her pleasant little share. He was no dunce, that Mervyn, nor much
of a coxcomb, and certainly no clown, Devereux thought; but as fine a
gentleman, to speak honestly, and as handsome, as well dressed, and as
pleasant to listen to, with that sweet low voice and piquant smile, as
any. Besides he could draw, and had more yards of French and English
verses by rote than Aunt Becky owned of Venetian lace and satin ribbons,
and was more of a scholar than he. He? _He_!--why--'he?' what the deuce
had Devereux to do with it--was