She possessed a considerable share of insipid and somewhat faded beauty, but disguised by a tawdry trumpery style of dress, and rendered almost disgusting by the air of affectation, folly, and peevishness that overspread her whole person and deportment.  She testified the utmost surprise and coldness at sight of her guests; and, as she entered, Mr. Gawffaw rushed out, having descried something passing in the yard that called for his interposition.  Mr. Douglas was therefore under the necessity of introducing himself and Mary to their ungracious hostess; briefly stating the circumstances that had led them to be her guests, and dwelling, with much warmth, on the kindness and hospitality of her husband in having relieved them from their embarrassment.  A gracious smile, or what was intended as such, beamed over Mrs. Gawffaw’s face at first mention of their names.

“Excuse me, Mr. Douglas,” said she, making a profound reverence to him, and another to Mary, while she waved her hand for them to be seated.  “Excuse me, Miss Douglas; but situated as I am, I find it necessary to be very distant to Mr. Gawffaw’s friends sometimes.  He is a thoughtless man, Mr. Douglas—­a very thoughtless man.  He makes a perfect inn of his house.  He never lies out of the town, trying who he can pick up and bring home with him.  It is seldom I am so fortunate as to see such guests as Mr. and Miss Douglas of Glenfern Castle in my house,” with an elegant bow to each, which of course was duly returned.  “But Mr. Gawffaw would have shown more consideration, both for you and me, had he apprised me of the honour of your visit, instead of bringing you here in this ill bred, unceremonious manner.  As for me, I am too well accustomed to him to be hurt at these things now.  He has kept me in hot water, I may say, since the day I married him.”

In spite of the conciliatory manner in which this agreeable address was made, Mr. Douglas felt considerably disconcerted, and again renewed his apologies, adding something about hopes of being able to proceed.

“Make no apologies, my dear sir,” said the lady, with what she deemed a most bewitching manner; “it affords me the greatest pleasure to see any of your family under my roof.  I meant no reflection on you; it is entirely Mr. Gawffaw that is to blame, in not having apprised me of the honour of this visit, that I might not have been caught in this deshabille; but I was really so engaged by my studies—­” pointing to the dirty novel—­“that I was quite unconscious of the lapse of time.”  The guests felt more and more at a loss what to say; but the lady, was at none.  Seeing Mr. Douglas still standing with his hat in his hand, and his eye directed towards the door, she resumed her discourse.

“Pray be seated, Mr. Douglas; I beg you will sit off the door.  Miss Douglas, I entreat you will walk into the fire; I hope you will consider yourself as quite at home”—­another elegant bend to each.  “I only regret that Mr. Gawffaw’s folly and ill-breeding should have brought you into this disagreeable situation, Mr. Douglas.  He is a well-meaning man, Mr. Douglas, and a good-hearted man; but he is very deficient in other respects, Mr. Douglas.”