button-hole thereof was a moss-rose. The vest was white, and the
trousers a pearl gray, with what tailors style "a handsome fall over the
boot." A blue and white silk cravat, tied loose and debonair; an ample
field of shirt front, with plain gold studs; a pair of lemon-coloured
kid gloves, and a white hat, placed somewhat too knowingly on one side,
complete the description, and "give the world assurance of the man."
And, with his light, firm, well-shaped figure, his clear complexion, his
keen, bright eye, and features that bespoke the courage, precision, and
alertness of his character,--that is to say, features bold, not large,
well-defined, and regular,--you might walk long through town or country
before you would see a handsomer specimen of humanity than our friend
Richard Avenel.

Handsome, and feeling that he was handsome; rich, and feeling that he
was rich; lord of the fete, and feeling that he was lord of the fete,
Richard Avenel stepped out upon his lawn.

And now the dust began to rise along the road, and carriages and gigs
and chaises and flies might be seen at near intervals and in quick
procession. People came pretty much about the same time-as they do in
the country--Heaven reward them for it!

Richard Avenel was not quite at his ease at first in receiving his
guests, especially those whom he did not know by sight. But when the
dancing began, and he had secured the fair hand of Mrs. M'Catchley for
the initiary quadrille, his courage and presence of mind returned to
him; and, seeing that many people whom he had not received at all seemed
to enjoy themselves very much, he gave up the attempt to receive those
who came after,--and that was a great relief to all parties.

Meanwhile Leonard looked on the animated scene with a silent melancholy,
which he in vain endeavoured to shake off,--a melancholy more common
amongst very young men in such scenes than we are apt to suppose.
Somehow or other, the pleasure was not congenial to him; he had no Mrs.
M'Catchley to endear it; he knew very few people, he was shy, he felt
his position with his uncle was equivocal, he had not the habit of
society, he heard, incidentally, many an ill-natured remark upon his
uncle and the entertainment, he felt indignant and mortified. He had
been a great deal happier eating his radishes and reading his book by
the little fountain in Riccabocca's garden. He retired to a quiet part
of the grounds, seated himself under a tree, leaned his