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‘Lucy,’ he recommenced, ‘look well at my mother, and say, without fear or favour, in what light she now appears to you.’

‘As she always does,—an English, middle-class gentlewoman; well, though gravely dressed, habitually independent of pretence, constitutionally composed and cheerful.’

‘So she seems to me—bless her! The merry may laugh with mama, but the weak only will laugh at her. She shall not be ridiculed, with my consent at least; nor without my—my scorn—my antipathy—my—’

He stopped: and it was time—for he was getting excited—more it seemed than the occasion warranted. I did not then know that he had witnessed double cause for dissatisfaction with Miss Fanshawe. The glow of his complexion, the expansion of his nostril, the bold curve which disdain gave his well-cut under lip, showed him in a new and striking phase. Yet the rare passion of the constitutionally suave and serene, is not a pleasant spectacle; nor did I like the sort of vindictive thrill which passed through his strong young frame.

‘Do I frighten you, Lucy?’ he asked.

‘I cannot tell why you are so very angry.’

‘For this reason,’ he muttered in my ear: ‘Ginevra is neither a pure angel nor a pure-minded woman.’

‘Nonsense! you exaggerate: she has no great harm in her.’

‘Too much for me. I can see where you are blind. Now, dismiss the subject. Let me amuse myself by teasing mama: I will assert that she is flagging. Mama, pray rouse yourself.’

‘John, I will certainly rouse you, if you are not better conducted. Will you and Lucy be silent, that I may hear the singing?’

They were then thundering in a chorus, under cover of which all the previous dialogue had taken place.

‘You hear the singing, mama! Now, I will wager my studs—which are genuine—against your paste brooch—’

‘My paste brooch, Graham? Profane boy! you know that it is a stone of value.’

‘Oh! that is one of your superstitions: you were cheated in the business.’

‘I am cheated in fewer things than you imagine. How do you happen to be acquainted with young ladies of the court, John? I have observed two of them pay you no small attention during the last half hour.’

‘I wish you would not observe them.’

‘Why not? Because one of them satirically levels her eyeglass at me? She is a pretty, silly girl: but are you apprehensive that her titter will discomfit the old lady?’

‘The sensible, admirable old lady! Mother, you are better to me than ten wives yet.’

‘Don’t be demonstrative, John, or I shall faint, and you will have to carry me out; and if that burden were laid upon you, you would reverse your last speech, and exclaim, “Mother, ten wives could hardly be worse to me than you are!” ’

The concert over, the lottery ‘au benefice des pauvres’ came next: the interval between was one of general relaxation, and the pleasantest imaginable stir and commotion. The white flock was cleared from the platform; a busy throng of gentlemen crowded it instead, making arrangements for the drawing; and amongst these—the busiest of all—re-appeared that certain well-known form, not tall but active, alive with the energy and movement of three tall men. How M. Paul did work! How he issued directions, and at the same time, set his own shoulder to the wheel! Half-a-dozen assistants were at his beck to remove the pianos, &c.; no matter, he must add to their strength his own. The redundancy of his alertness was half-vexing, half-ludicrous: in my mind I both disapproved and derided most of this fuss. Yet, in the midst of prejudice and annoyance, I could not, while watching, avoid perceiving a certain not disagreeable naivete in all he did and said; nor could I be blind to certain vigorous characteristics of his physiognomy, rendered conspicuous now by the contrast with a throng of tamer faces: the deep, intent keenness of his eye, the power of his forehead—pale, broad, and full—the mobility of his most flexible mouth. He lacked the calm of force, but its movement and its fire he signally possessed.

Meantime the whole hall was in a stir; most people