Leonard, meanwhile, was borne on by the stream,
till his progress was arrested by a sofa table at which sate Mrs.
M'Catchley herself, with Mrs. Pompley by her side. For on this great
occasion the hostess had abandoned her proper post at the entrance, and,
whether to show her respect to Mrs. M'Catchley, or to show Mrs.
M'Catchley her well-bred contempt for the people of Screwstown, remained
in state by her friend, honoring only the _elite_ of the town with
introductions to the illustrious visitor.

Mrs. M'Catchley was a very fine woman--a woman who justified Mrs.
Pompley's pride in her. Her cheekbones were rather high, it is true, but
that proved the purity of her Caledonian descent; for the rest, she had
a brilliant complexion, heightened by a _soupcon_ of rouge--good-eyes
and teeth, a showy figure, and all the ladies of Screwstown pronounced
her dress to be perfect. She might have arrived at that age at which one
intends to stop for the next ten years, but even a Frenchman would not
have called her _passee_--that is, for a widow. For a spinster, it would
have been different.

Looking round her with a glass, which Mrs. Pompley was in the habit of
declaring that "Mrs. M'Catchley used like an angel," this lady suddenly
perceived Leonard Avenel; and his quiet, simple, thoughtful air and
looks so contrasted with the stiff beaux, to whom she had been
presented, that experienced in fashion as so fine a personage must be
supposed to be, she was nevertheless deceived into whispering to Mrs.
Pompley--

"That young man has really an _air distingue_--who is he?"

"Oh," said Mrs. Pompley, in unaffected surprise, "that is the nephew of
the rich Vulgarian I was telling you of this morning."

"Ah! and you say that he is Mr. Arundel's heir?"

"Avenel--not Arundel--my sweet friend."

"Avenel is not a bad name," said Mrs. M'Catchley. "But is the uncle
really so rich?"

"The Colonel was trying this very day to guess what he is worth; but he
says it is impossible to guess it."

"And the young man is his heir."

"It is thought so: and reading for college, I hear. They say he is
clever."

"Present him, my love: I like clever people," said Mrs. M'Catchley,
falling back languidly.

About ten minutes afterwards, Richard Avenel, having effected his escape
from the Colonel, and his gaze being attracted towards the sofa table by
the buzz of the admiring crowd, beheld his nephew in animated
conversation with the long-cherished idol