they were hailed, and resolved it into an
act of rebellion on the part of his son. At dinner he drank the young
heir's health in ominous silence. Adrian Harley stood up in his place to
propose the health. His speech was a fine piece of rhetoric. He
warmed in it till, after the Ciceronic model, inanimate objects were
personified, and Richard's table-napkin and vacant chair were invoked to
follow the steps of a peerless father, and uphold with his dignity
the honour of the Feverels. Austin Wentworth, whom a soldier's death
compelled to take his father's place in support of the toast, was tame
after such magniloquence. But the reply, the thanks which young Richard
should have delivered in person were not forthcoming. Adrian's oratory
had given but a momentary life to napkin and chair. The company of
honoured friends, and aunts and uncles, remotest cousins, were glad to
disperse and seek amusement in music and tea. Sir Austin did his utmost
to be hospitable cheerful, and requested them to dance. If he had
desired them to laugh he would have been obeyed, and in as hearty a
manner.

"How triste!" said Mrs. Doria Forey to Lobourne's curate, as that most
enamoured automaton went through his paces beside her with professional
stiffness.

"One who does not suffer can hardly assent," the curate answered,
basking in her beams.

"Ah, you are good!" exclaimed the lady. "Look at my Clare. She will not
dance on her cousin's birthday with anyone but him. What are we to do to
enliven these people?"

"Alas, madam! you cannot do for all what you do for one," the curate
sighed, and wherever she wandered in discourse, drew her back with
silken strings to gaze on his enamoured soul.

He was the only gratified stranger present. The others had designs
on the young heir. Lady Attenbury of Longford House had brought her
highly-polished specimen of market-ware, the Lady Juliana Jaye, for a
first introduction to him, thinking he had arrived at an age to estimate
and pine for her black eyes and pretty pert mouth. The Lady Juliana had
to pair off with a dapper Papworth, and her mama was subjected to the
gallantries of Sir Miles, who talked land and steam-engines to her till
she was sick, and had to be impertinent in self-defence. Lady Blandish,
the delightful widow, sat apart with Adrian, and enjoyed his sarcasms
on the company. By ten at night the poor show ended, and the rooms were
dark, dark as the prognostics multitudinously hinted by the