Chapter 9 - Page 2

wainscoting threw back upon the
massive table of mahogany streaks of strong light, which played among
the rich fluids that were sparkling on the board in mimic haloes. The
outline of this picture of comfort was formed by damask curtains of a
deep red, and enormous oak chairs with leathern backs and cushioned
seats, as if the apartment were hermetically sealed against the world
and its chilling cares.

Around the table, which still stood in the centre of the floor, were
seated three gentlemen, in the easy enjoyment of their daily repast. The
cloth had been drawn, and the bottle was slowly passing among them, as
if those who partook of its bounty well knew that neither the time nor
the opportunity would be wanting for their deliberate indulgence in its
pleasures.

At one end of the table an elderly man was seated, who performed
whatever little acts of courtesy the duties of a host would appear to
render necessary, in a company where all seemed to be equally at their
ease and at home. This gentleman was in the decline of life, though his
erect carriage, quick movements, and steady hand, equally denoted that
it was an old age free from the usual infirmities. In his dress, he
belonged to that class whose members always follow the fashions of the
age anterior to the one in which they live, whether from disinclination
to sudden changes of any kind, or from the recollections of a period
which, with them, has been hallowed by scenes and feelings that the
chilling evening of life can neither revive nor equal. Age might
possibly have thrown its blighting frosts on his thin locks, but art had
labored to conceal the ravages with the nicest care. An accurate outline
of powder covered not only the parts where the hair actually remained,
but wherever nature had prescribed that hair should grow. His
countenance was strongly marked in features, if not in expression,
exhibiting, on the whole, a look of noble integrity and high honor,
which was a good deal aided in its effect by the lofty receding
forehead, that rose like a monument above the whole, to record the
character of the aged veteran. A few streaks of branching red mingled
with a swarthiness of complexion, that was rendered more conspicuous by
the outline of unsullied white, which nearly surrounded his prominent
features.

Opposite to the host, who it will at once be understood was Colonel
Howard, was the thin yellow visage of Mr. Christopher Dillon, that bane
to the happiness of her cousin, already mentioned by Miss Plowden.

Between these two gentlemen was a middle-aged hard-featured man, attired
in the livery of King George, whose countenance emulated the scarlet of
his coat, and whose principal employment, at the moment, appeared to