The day at last arrived, which was fixed for the annual visit of Mrs. Sullivan and her party at Deane Hall; for it may easily be supposed, that where such dissimilarity of character and pursuit existed, little intercourse would be maintained. At least an hour after the appointed time, the loud and peremptory knock of their London footman proclaimed their arrival; but their welcome was much less cordial, than it would otherwise have been, from all the assembled party at Deane, as they came unaccompanied by Miss Wildenheim. Mrs. Sullivan, on entering the room, displayed a low, fat, vulgar figure, arrayed in all the shades admissible in fashionable _mourning_. Her gown was a _soi-disant_ grey, approximating, as nearly as possible, to a sky blue, relieved with black and scarlet, and profusely ornamented with artificial flowers. On her head waved a plume of white ostrich feathers, which, in their modest color and airy form, served perfectly to contrast her piony cheeks and lumpish person. Her petticoats, wired at the bottom, kept unbroken the ample circle, of which her breadth from hip to hip formed the diameter. Her shuffling gait put all her finery in motion from head to foot; and Selina could not help thinking, that, "if she might just give her one _little_ twirl," she would make to perfection what in her girlish plays was called a _cheese_. Mrs. Sullivan was followed by her two elder daughters--Miss Webberly, loaded with all the superfluous decorations of modern costume, which could be called in aid to conceal her natural deformity, and her sister, dressed in the opposite extreme of capricious fashion, equally solicitous to exhibit her all unobscured charms. Soon after, the entrance of the remaining guests completed the circle, and the company insensibly dividing into small separate parties, Mrs. Galton found herself between her two intimate friends, Mr. and Mrs. Temple, and expressed to them her sincere regret at not seeing Miss Wildenheim, for whom Mrs. Sullivan had made an awkward apology. "What a beautiful style of countenance hers is," said Augustus Mordaunt, who was standing by: "quite the Grecian head." "I look more to the inside of the head," replied Mr. Temple, "and find it as admirable as you do the outside." "You are always so warm in your admiration of your young favourite, that I am really quite jealous," said his amiable wife, with a look that expressed her love and pride in the speaker, and her regard for the object spoken of. "I do indeed admire her; nay, youthful as she is, I reverence her," resumed Mr. Temple. "And how did you happen to know so much of her?" asked Mrs. Galton; "for she has been carefully secluded from the rest of the neighbourhood."