Mrs. M'Catchley
to endear it; he knew very few people; he was shy; he felt his position
with his uncle was equivocal; he had not the habit of society; he heard
incidentally many an ill-natured remark upon his uncle and the
entertainment; he felt indignant and mortified. He had been a great deal
happier eating his radishes and reading his book by the little fountain
in Riccabocca's garden. He retired to a quiet part of the grounds,
seated himself under a tree, leaned his cheek on his hand, and mused. He
was soon far away--happy age, when, whatever the present, the future
seems so fair and so infinite!

But now the _dejeune_ had succeeded the earlier dances; and, as
champagne flowed royally, it is astonishing how the entertainment
brightened.

The sun was beginning to slope toward the west, when, during a
temporary cessation of the dance, all the guests had assembled in such
space as the tent left on the lawn, or thickly filled the walks
immediately adjoining it. The gay dresses of the ladies, the joyous
laughter heard every where, and the brilliant sunlight over all,
conveyed even to Leonard the notion, not of mere hypocritical pleasure,
but actual healthful happiness. He was attracted from his reverie, and
timidly mingled with the groups. But Richard Avenel, with the fair Mrs.
M'Catchley--her complexion more vivid, and her eyes more dazzling, and
her step more elastic than usual--had turned from the gayety just as
Leonard had turned toward it, and was now on the very spot (remote,
obscure, shaded by the few trees above five years old that Mr. Avenel's
property boasted) which the young dreamer had deserted.

And then! Ah! then! moment so meet for the sweet question of questions,
place so appropriate for the delicate, bashful, murmured popping
thereof!--suddenly from the sward before, from the groups beyond, there
floated to the ears of Richard Avenel an indescribable, mingled, ominous
sound--a sound as of a general titter--a horrid, malignant, but low
cacchination. And Mrs. M'Catchley, stretching forth her parasol,
exclaimed, "Dear me, Mr. Avenel, what can they be all crowding there
for?"

There are certain sounds and certain sights--the one indistinct, the
other vaguely conjecturable--which, nevertheless, we know by an
instinct, bode some diabolical agency at work in our affairs. And if any
man gives an entertainment, and hears afar a general, ill-suppressed,
derisive titter, and sees all his guests hurrying towar