"Observe the very fat Mrs. Pottinger in the brocaded gown and Mrs. Markham with a whole dish of grapes and currants upon her head; and their well-bred daughters whispering together on that ottoman--comparing notes about you, I have no doubt! I tell my uncle he need never expect me to pay any attention to this sort of guests. I hardly know who shall take me in to dinner. Colonel Markham drawls so, and Mr. Pottinger speaks through his nose. Then Mr. Baxter is so fat, and the seal--oh! I see Evan has caught somebody that will do to walk across the room with. Uncle Singleton, let that black-looking man take me in to dinner. Evan, I wish to introduce you to Miss Capel." "Delighted," said Mr. Evan Conway bowing to Margaret. "You will also take Miss Capel in to dinner." "Delighted." "And, oh! in case I don't come near you again, be careful that you make Mr. Humphries sing in the evening." "Delighted." "Evan is not a fool," said Harriet, turning to Margaret, "though you would think so by his using only one word to express everything. What is that man's name Evan, who is propping that side of the chimney-piece with his shoulder?" "Gordon." "Oh, good Heaven! A Scotchman! I retract, Margaret, I will have Colonel Markham; though he drawls, he says very little; and anything is better than the brogue. What is he, this Scotchman?" "Nothing." "Worse and worse. I detest a man without an occupation; and now I look at him, I suspect he writes." "Sometimes." "What does he write in the name of goodness?" "Travels." "Oh! that is better than poetry, don't you think so Margaret? I am not sure if I will not put up with him. Is he poor?" "No." "Rich then?" "Nor rich." "One of your black swans that I always find to be so much worse than geese?" "Perhaps." "Introduce him to me." "Harriet--Mr. Gordon." "What a detestable introduction. I suppose Mr. Gordon, you are sufficiently acquainted with Evan not to be surprised at anything he says or does?" Margaret did not hear Mr. Gordon's reply, for he led Harriet off to dinner, which was announced at the moment, and she accepted the offered arm of Mr. Evan Conway. Margaret was struck with the appearance of the dining-room. It was a large dark room; for although crowded with lamps, black oak is the most difficult of all things to light up. The mantle-piece was in the form of a Gothic arch; the ceiling crossed with carved beams of wood; and at the end of the apartment there was an arched recess, where stood the sideboard loaded with old plate. "Are you fond of talking?" said Mr. Evan, as soon as they were placed at table. Margaret thought the question an odd one; but she said that she had never considered the subject, and that she should hardly think herself a good judge of her own peculiarities.