Another hour passed in the drawing-room, in the same way, and Annie happening to be near a table, on which lay some books, took up a new review in which she was soon absorbed. After reading a few pages she (being the first person who had looked into it) was obliged to cut the leaves, when she heard Miss Hauton say, in the same scornful tone in which she had pronounced her an enthusiast in flowers, “Miss Cameron is literary, I see;” and Annie, coloring, again dropped the book, and returned to her wearisome place on the sofa. Kate found to her great delight that company was expected to dinner, and when the preparation-bell rang, the girls, almost in a state of exhaustion, retired to dress. “Kate,” exclaimed Annie, “I am almost dead. I don’t know what has tired me so, but I feel as if I had been in an exhausted receiver.” Kate laughed. “You should have brought some work with you, Annie. If you had only been counting stitches, as I have been, you don’t know what a support it would have been to you under Mrs. Hauton’s talk. She is intolerable if you listen to her—but that I did not do. However, take courage. The Langtrees and Constants, and Merediths, are coming to dinner. Here, let me put this wreath of honeysuckle in your hair. There, it’s very becoming; only, Annie, you must not look so tired,” she continued, laughing, “or I am afraid you’ll make no conquests. And Constant and Meredith are coming with their sisters.” After half an hour’s free and unconstrained chat, and conscious of a pretty and becoming toilet, refreshed and invigorated for a new attempt in society, Annie accompanied her aunt and cousin again to the drawing-room. The new comers had arrived; a stylish-looking set—the girls in full dress, the young men so whiskered and mustachioed that Annie was surprised to hear them speak English. They were received with great animation by the Hautons, who seemed to belong to that class of young ladies who never thoroughly wake but at the approach of a gentleman. The young men glanced slightly at Annie, and Mr. Meredith even gave her a second look. He thought her decidedly pretty, and a “new face,” which was something; but after a remark or two, finding she “knew nobody,” and did not belong to the clique, the trouble of finding topics of mutual interest seemed greater than he thought her worth, and so he turned to Miss Hauton; and Annie soon found herself dropped from a conversation that consisted entirely of personal gossip. “So, the wedding has come off at last,” said Susan Hauton to Mr. Constant. “I hope the Gores are satisfied now. Were you there? How did Mr. Langley look?” “Resigned,” replied the young man, slightly shrugging his shoulders. Susan laughed, though at what Annie could not very well perceive, and continued with, “And the bride—how did she look?”