ive at
the hall-door of Mr Deane's substantial mansion in the market-place.
With the exception of Mr Harwood and one or two others, they were
relations of the family, or connected in some way or other. Mrs Deane
received them in a cordial and hearty manner, showing, however, that she
entertained a becoming sense of her own importance. The Squire and
Alethea were evidently, from the style of their reception, amongst the
most honoured. The lady of the mansion wore a tower of fine Flemish
lace on her head, to which that on her gown, of handsome paduasoy,
exactly corresponded; and her general appearance was matronly and
dignified. Behind her, courtesying and smiling to the guests as they
approached, stood two well-grown unmistakably English girls, their
dresses ornamented with cherry-coloured ribbons, just then in fashion:
the eldest, Catherine, or Kate, as she was called, a brunette, tall and
slight, with a somewhat grave and retiring manner, and far more refined
than her rosy-cheeked, merry-looking younger sister Polly, who gave
promise of some day growing into the goodly proportions of her mother.
Mr Deane, with full wig, lace coat, and sword by his side, stood in the
old oak hall, accompanied by his son Jasper, ready to hand the ladies
from their sedan-chairs as they were brought into the hall. The last to
arrive, who was received with all due honour, was a Dr Nathaniel Deane,
a cousin of Mr Deane's, the only physician, and one of the greatest
men, in Nottingham. Jack was the last to enter the house, and had but
little time to slip into his room, and put on his grey dress suit,
before dinner was announced. For a few minutes he was seen standing
behind the door, unwilling to enter and go through the ordeal of paying
his respects to the assembled guests, little more of him being
observable besides a broad shoulder and a well-turned leg, with a red
clock to his grey stocking. Cousin Nat--for so Mr Nathaniel Deane was
called by his relatives--soon however spied him out, and though at that
moment tapping his jewelled snuff-box preparatory to offering it to Mrs
Bethia Harcourt, Mrs Deane's maiden aunt, he contrived directly
afterwards to find himself close to Jack, and to shake hands cordially
with the young man, for whom he evidently had an especial regard.

"Well, Jack, what scrape have you last got into, or out of rather, I
should say?" said Cousin Nat, "for I am told it is seldom you have not
something of the sort