Harry professed himself quite at Mrs. de Vaux's service. Mrs. Stanley, he said, was going to see his friend's pictures the very next day. A party was soon arranged, the hour fixed, and everything settled, before supper was announced. As Mrs. de Vaux and Mr. Stryker moved towards the door, they were followed by Mrs. Creighton and Harry.
"Who was the young man you were talking with at supper, Josephine?" asked Mr. Ellsworth, as he stepped into the carriage after Mrs. Creighton and Harry, in driving away from the wedding.
"Which do you mean?"
"A mere boy—one of the groomsmen, by the white favours in his button-hole."
"Oh, that was the groom's brother, Mr. Pompey Taylor, the younger, a very simple, and rather an awkward young gentleman. I had the honour of making the acquaintance of all the family, in the course of the evening. I was quite amused with Mr. Taylor, the father; he really seems to have as great a relish for the vanities of life, as any young girl of fifteen."
"Because they are quite as new to him," said Hazlehurst.
"That is difficult to believe of a clever, calculating man of fifty," observed Mr. Ellsworth.
"All clever men of fifty are not quite free from nonsense, take my word for it," said the lady.
"I appeal to Mr. Hazlehurst, who knows Mr. Taylor; as for myself,
I am convinced by the man's manner this evening."
"You are certainly correct in your opinion, Mrs. Creighton. Mr. Taylor is, no doubt, a clever man; and yet he takes delight in every piece of finery about his house. He is more possessed with the spirit of sheer ostentation, than any man I ever met with."