"An Irish name, also; my friends are Irish."
"Indeed, one might have guessed it, from the spirit of the young lady's observations."
"Mamma," interrupted Helena, "there they are all at the cascade waiting for us; and I see Thomas, too, with the croquet boxes."
"Well, my dear, we are going to them; don't be impatient."
This injunction was given in vain. Helena had already darted off to her friends at the cascade. They consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Penton,—both young; the lady, tall, slight, and dark,—very elegant, but apparently haughty, and evidently accustomed to be admired; the gentleman, a large and rather an unwieldy figure, with a sandy complexion, and a heavy, although good expression of countenance; Mary Elton, Helena's sister, and somewhat like her, but in manner as grave and sedate as the other was gay and thoughtless; Mr. Mainwaring, and Mr. Caulfield,—the latter, a good-looking, bright, laughing Irishman; the former, an Englishman, and particularly grave and solemn.
Helena was received with marked pleasure. Her great liveliness made her a general favourite. She was soon in deep conversation with Mary and the gentlemen about the selection of the croquet ground, while the Pentons turned to greet the others who had just come up.
Mrs. Elton announced, in a delighted tone, that they had been fortunate enough to meet and capture Mr. Earnscliffe. "What an addition to our party, is it not, Mary?" turning to her eldest daughter.
"Yes," Mary replied, quickly; "we are all, I am sure, very happy to see Mr. Earnscliffe. Does he condescend to play croquet?"
"I have never played," said he; "but I have seen people knocking balls about with things like long-handled mallets. That is croquet, I believe?"