Mrs. Montresor was still a handsome woman. She bore a family likeness to her nephew, Mortimer, who was the only son of her sister, while Adelaide and Augustus Horton were the children of her brother. Her fair ringlets had, as yet, escaped the hand of Time. No tell-tale streaks of gray had stolen amid the showering locks. Her blue eyes were as bright as those of a girl, and shone with the light of good humor and benevolence. She was not only a handsome woman, she was a lovable one. The young instinctively clung to her, and felt that within that ample bosom beat a kindly heart, which a long summer of prosperity had never rendered callous to the woes of others. "Come, gentlemen!" she said, gayly, as she approached the two friends; "this is really too bad! Here you are lolling on a sofa, 'wasting your sweetness on the desert air,' while I have, at least, half a dozen pretty girls waiting for eligible partners for the next waltz. As for you, Mortimer," she added, shaking her perfumed fan, threateningly at her nephew; "you are really incorrigible; poor Adelaide does not even know you are here." "I came in late, my dear aunt, and I saw that both you and my cousin were so surrounded by admirers, it was quite impossible to approach you." "A pretty excuse, sir, which neither I nor Adelaide will accept," said Mrs. Montresor, laughing. "And then, again, I wanted to have a chat with Gilbert." "Out upon your gallantry, sir; you preferred talking to Mr. Margrave to dancing with your cousin and affianced bride?" "I am not a very good dancer; I am apt to tread upon the ladies' lace flounces, and get my heels entangled in the spurs of young dragoons. I really thought my cousin would rather be excused." "Indeed, sir," exclaimed Mrs. Montresor, evidently rather annoyed by her nephew's indifference; "I should not be surprised if Adelaide should one day ask to be excused from marrying you." "Good gracious!" cried young Mortimer, playing with his watch chain; "do you think my cousin is not very violently in love with me?" "Violently in love with you? coxcomb! But, joking apart, really, Mortimer, you are the coldest, most unpoetical, soulless creature I ever met with."