Mrs. Birtwell was a woman of another order.  All her life she had been used to the elegancy that a wealthy parentage gave, and to which her husband had been, until within a few years, an entire stranger.  She was “to the manner born,” he a parvenu with a restless ambition to outshine.  Familiarity with things luxurious and costly had lessened their value in her eyes, and true culture had lifted her above the weakness of resting in or caring much about them, while their newness and novelty to Mr. Birtwell made enjoyment keen, and led him on to extravagant and showy exhibitions of wealth that caused most people to smile at his weakness, and a good many to ask who he was and from whence he came that he carried himself so loftily.  Mrs. Birtwell did not like the advanced position to which her husband carried her, but she yielded to his weak love of notoriety and social eclat as gracefully as possible, and did her best to cover his too glaring violations of good taste and conventional refinement.  In this she was not always successful.

Of course the best of liquors in lavish abundance were provided by Mr. Birtwell for his guests.  Besides the dozen different kinds of wine that were on the supper-table, there was a sideboard for gentlemen, in a room out of common observation, well stocked with brandy, gin and whisky, and it was a little curious to see how quickly this was discovered by certain of the guests, who scented it as truly as a bee scents honey in a clover-field, and extracted its sweets as eagerly.

Of the guests who were present we have now to deal chiefly with Mr. Ridley, and only incidentally with the rest.  Dr. Hillhouse was there during the first part of the evening, but went away early—­that, is, before twelve o’clock.  He remained long enough, however, to do full justice to the supper and wines.  His handsome and agreeable young associate, Dr. Angler, a slight acquaintance with whom the reader has already, prolonged his stay to a later hour.

The Rev. Dr. Elliott was also, among the guests, displaying his fine social qualities and attracting about him the young and the old.  Everybody liked Dr. Elliott, he was so frank, so cordial, free and sympathetic, and, withal, so intelligent.  He did not bring the clergyman with him into a gay drawing-room, nor the ascetic to a feast.  He could talk with the banker about finance, with the merchant about trade, with the student or editor about science, literature and the current events of the day, and with young men and maidens about music and the lighter matters in which they happened to be interested.  And, moreover, he could enjoy a good supper and knew the flavor of good wine.  A man of such rare accomplishments came to be a general favorite, and so you encountered Mr. Elliott at nearly all the fashionable parties.