party had been given
before Clarence's return. Griffith had been expected in time for
it, but he had preferred going by way of London to attend a ball
given by the daughter of a barrister friend of my father's. Selina
Clarkson was a fine showy girl, with the sort of beauty to inspire
boyish admiration, and Griff's had been a standing family joke, even
my father condescending to tease him when the young lady married Sir
Henry Peacock, a fat vulgar old man who had made his fortune in the
commissariat, and purchased a baronetcy. He was allowing his young
wife her full swing of fashion and enjoyment. My mother did not
think it a desirable acquaintance, and was restless until both the
brothers came home together, long after dark on Christmas Eve,
having been met by the gig at the corner where the coach stopped.
The dinner-hour had been put off till half-past six, and we had to
wait for them, the coach having been delayed by setting down
Christmas guests and Christmas fare. They were a contrast; Griffith
looking very handsome and manly, all in a ruddy glow from the frosty
air, and Clarence, though equally tall, well-made, and with more
refined features, looked pale and effaced, now that his sailor tan
was worn off. The one talked as eagerly as he ate, the other was
shy, spiritless, and with little appetite; but as he always shrank
into himself among strangers, it was the less wonder that he sat in
his drooping way behind my sofa, while Griffith kept us all merry
with his account of the humours of the 'Peacock at home;' the
lumbering efforts of old Sir Henry to be as young and gay as his
wife, in spite of gout and portliness; and the extreme delight of
his lady in her new splendours--a gold spotted muslin and white
plumes in a diamond agraffe.
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