ke an angel," this lady suddenly
perceived Leonard Fairfield; and his quiet, simple, thoughtful air and
look so contrasted with the stiff beaux to whom she had been presented,
that, experienced in fashion as so fine a personage must be supposed to
be, she was nevertheless deceived into whispering to Mrs. Pompley,

"That young man has really an air distingue; who is he?"

"Oh," said Mrs. Pompley, in unaffected surprise, "that is the nephew of
the rich Vulgarian I was telling you of this morning."

"Ah! and you say that he is Mr. Arundel's heir?"

"Avenel--not Arundel--my sweet friend."

"Avenel is not a bad name," said Mrs. M'Catchley. "But is the uncle
really so rich?"

"The colonel was trying this very day to guess what he is worth; but he
says it is impossible to guess it."

"And the young man is his heir?"

"It is thought so; and reading for College, I hear. They say he is
clever."

"Present him, my love; I like clever people," said Mrs. M'Catchley,
falling back languidly.

About ten minutes afterwards, Richard Avenel having effected his escape
from the colonel, and his gaze being attracted towards the sofa-table
by the buzz of the admiring crowd, beheld his nephew in animated
conversation with the long cherished idol of his dreams. A fierce pang
of jealousy shot through his breast. His nephew had never looked so
handsome and so intelligent; in fact, poor Leonard had never before been
drawn out by a woman of the world, who had learned how to make the most
of what little she knew. And as jealousy operates like a pair of bellows
on incipient flames, so, at first sight of the smile which the fair
widow bestowed upon Leonard, the heart of Mr. Avenel felt in a blaze.

He approached with a step less assured than usual, and, overhearing
Leonard's talk, marvelled much at the boy's audacity. Mrs. M'Catchley
had been speaking of Scotland and the Waverley Novels, about which
Leonard knew nothing. But he knew Burns, and on Burns he grew artlessly
eloquent. Burns the poet and peasant--Leonard might well be eloquent
on him. Mrs. M'Catchley was amused and pleased with his freshness and
naivete, so unlike anything she had ever heard or seen, and she drew
him on and on till Leonard fell to quoting. And Richard heard, with less
respect for the sentiment than might be supposed, that

"Rank is but the guinea's stamp,
The man's the gowd for a' that."

"Well!" exclaimed Mr. Avenel. "Pretty piece of poli