"His father is a man of talent before him," observed Mrs. Mervale. "As a family, the Hazlewoods have always been distinguished for ability. This young man is ugly, you say, Angila?" "Yes--" replied Angila, though with some hesitation. "Yes, he is ugly, certainly--but he has a good countenance; and when he converses he is better looking than I thought him." "It's a pity he's conceited," said Mrs. Mervale, innocently; her impression of the young man being taken from her daughter's previous description of him. "Since he is really clever, it's a pity, for it's such a drawback always." "Conceited! I don't think he's conceited," said Angila, quite forgetting her yesterday's opinion. "Don't you? I thought it was you who said so, my dear," replied her mother, quietly. "Yes, I did once think so," said Angila, slightly blushing at her own inconsistency. "I don't know why I took the idea in my head--but in fact I talked more to him, and became better acquainted with him last evening than I ever have before. When there is dancing, there is so little time for conversation; and he really talks very well." "He is engaged to Miss Morton, you say?" continued Mrs. Mervale. "Well, I don't know," replied Angila, adding, as she remembered the animated looks of admiration he had bestowed upon herself, "I doubt it--that is the report, however." "Hazlewood's no more engaged to Mary Morton than I am," said young Mervale, carelessly. "Where did you get that idea?" "Why every body says so, George," said Angila. "Pshaw! every body's saying so don't make it so." "But he's very attentive to her," replied Angila. "Well, and if he is," retorted Mervale, "it does not follow that he must be in love with her. You women do jump to conclusions, and make up matches in such a way," he continued, almost angrily. "I think she likes him," pursued Angila. "I think she would have him." "Have him! to be sure she would," replied George, in the same tone; not that he considered the young lady particularly in love with his friend, but as if any girl might be glad to have him--for brothers are very apt to view such cases differently from sisters, who refuse young gentlemen for their friends without mercy. "But he's ugly, you say," continued Mrs. Mervale, sorrowfully, who, old lady as she was, liked a handsome young man, and always lamented when she found mental gifts unaccompanied by personal charms. "Yes, he's no beauty, that's certain," said Angila, gayly. "Has he a good air and figure?" pursued Mrs. Mervale, still hoping so clever a man might be better looking after all. "Yes, tolerable--middle height--nothing remarkable one way or the other." And then the young lady went off to tell some piece of news, that quite put Mr. Hazlewood out of her mother's head for the present.