"The prettiest casts that ever found favor in our island eyes," added Lorraine, "were the reading and writing Cupids. People bought them out of compliment to their own little chubby cherubs. Pretty dears!' I once heard a woman say-bless their nice little fat arms!' 99 "Look at the enthusiasm," rejoined Mr. Brande, "about the works of art at Rome. The story of the barber-I have forgotten the artist's name— —who flung himself at the cardinal's feet, and implored him to take away his life, but not the picture which had been painted beneath his roof, -is a simple fact. The very postilions reign up their horses, and point out to strangers, with a gesture of pride, the first glimpse of St. Peter's. It would be long enough before one of Mr. Newman's postboys stopped on Highgate Hill to point out the cupola of St. Paul's." "And yet," said Lorraine, "we are not without some sort of attachment to it-I do think we attach an idea of respectability to St. Paul's." "Perhaps," returned Lady Mandeville, "from its vicinity to the Bank-to say nothing of its utility to set watches by." "Our insular imagination is the exact reverse," observed Lord Mandeville, "of the Italians': theirs delights in outward impressions-ours dwells on internal impressions; theirs is the imagination of the ideas-ours of the feelings; they create a world-we exaggerate the influences of the one in which we live. Whether in painting or in poetry, we are egotists-we like what we can bring home to ourselves. Byron is our poet of passion-because it is passion we have felt, or fancied we have felt or could feel. Wordsworth is our poet of philosophy-because we all think we have practised, or could practise, his philosophy. The groundwork of the imagination of the Italians is fancy-that of the English is sentiment." "It is curious to observe," said Mr. Brande," the varieties of national character. The laws of the universe" 66 Nay," exclaimed Lady Mandeville, "pray keep a discussion on the laws of the universe till we are in England -it will accord with the reigning whim. While reform ing and settling as we are now doing, to arrange for the whole world will be a small matter But such a weighty business is too much for this land of sunshine and roseI move we do adjourn the meeting." "It is an old privilege of mine," said Lorraine, "to bring my adventures to your feet. I have really been sufficiently romantic lately for recital. May I find audience 'meet, though few?" Lady Mandeville and Emily were standing side by side-both smiled acquiescience. 66 The balcony of the fountain is the very place wherein to enact a scene from Boccacio." CHAPTER XIX. Alas! the heart o'eracts its part; its mirth, L. E. L. WHO that had looked on that trio, as the young cavalier commenced his narration, but would have thought, "what a fairylike picture of beauty and enjoyment!" The balcony was filled with young orange trees, wearing the first white promises of coming spring, whose rich perfume blended with the violets heaped below. A little fountain flung up its sparry rain, which then fell on the leaves around, and there lay glistening. Grove and garden were wrapped in that rich purple atmosphere when day has caught the first shadow of night-its softness, but not its gloom. There was a glorious sunset on the other side of the house, but the sky opposite was clear and pale, and only edged towards the west by two or three wandering clouds, whose freight of color softened from crimson to the faintest rose. A large window opened into the room, whose painted walls looked in the dim light as if life were in their graceful forms. A small statue of Hebe was placed on the balcony, and against that Emily leant, so near that the hues of her own cheek were reflected on the marble. Lorraine had resolved, if possible, to interest Lady Mandeville in the beautiful but isolated Spanish girl. He had lived too much in society not to be solicitous about its opinion; and was somewhat over anxious that Beatrice should at once take that place which would meet both her deserts and his wishes. The difference that there is between a woman's love and a man's! His passion may lead him, in the first instance, to act in opposition to opinion-but its influence is only suspended; and soon a sneer or a censure wounds his pride and weakens his love. A woman's heart, on the contrary, reposes more on itself; and a fault found in the object of her attachment is resented as an injury: she is angered, not altered. Briefly, as briefly as lover could well speak of his mistress, Edward recounted his engagement with Beatrice de los Zoridos; and never, certainly, was narrative less interrupted. Lady Mandeville dared not even look at Emily; and when under the absolute necessity of saying something, the very faculty of speech seemed to desert her. It looked so odd not to reply to Edward with all the kindness he had a right to expect; while it would be so cruel to Emily to congratulate him with any degree of warmth. To her utter astonishment, Emily actually was the first to speak. "Nay, Mr. Lorraine, you ought to canvass me; do you not know that all the gracious countenance Lady Mandeville can extend is mine by pledge and promise? I do not know whether I will allow her to grant the light of her favor to any rival next season-more especially to one so dangerous to the undivided effect I mean to produce, as this beautiful and interesting unknown." Edward made some deprecatory reply; and Lady Mandeville recovered breath and presence of mind together. 66 Positively," exclaimed Madame de Ligne, "I will admit no more of these divided councils-I am tired of monsieur votre mari, because he is tired of me. Mr. Spenser looks sad, and Mr. Brande stupid; Miss Arabin is in an attitude which there is no one to admire, excepting my husband, who is asleep. The saloon is lighted; and I heard some visiters come in as I left it." Lady Mandeville rose, and drew Emily's arm within her own; she fet it tremble, and press hers convulsively. It was but a moment; for the countess caught Emily's hand, and said, "Come with me, ma mignonne: I have a fancy tonight de faire des tableaux vivans, and your services will be invaluable." "I shall bring more willingness than ability," replied Emily; "but I will promise to do my best." The whole party, excepting the two, adjourned to the saloon, which showed sign of the countess's preparations by a large picture frame, before which was hung a curtain. In a very brief space the curtain was drawn aside, and showed what seemed a tent. The subject of the picture was Roxelana receiving a present of the Sultan from a young Greek girl. The countess personified the brilliant coquette to perfection. Half enveloped in a splendid cashmere-the letter of the Sultan flung beneath one very pretty foot, which a furred and scarlet slipper, “bien plus Arabe qu'en Arabie," showed to perfection-a very white arm hung over a pillow of the sofa and round it-the other little hands was clasping an additional chain of gems, which were not so bright as the eyes that were fixed upon them in smiling and sparkling attention. As the countess herself said, her personification of Roxelana was a triumph of the fine arts. Fortunately, the spectators could not look at one without seeing the other, or Mde. de Ligne would scarcely have been satisfied with the effect produced by her young companion. Emily had on a long loose white dress, closed round the throat with a narrow band of gold, and gathered round the waist with another band of gold, only broader. Her arms, enveloped in the large sleeves, were crossed, after the eastern manner of homage, and she knelt a little in the background at the one end of the sofa. A crimson turban, worn low on the forehead, entirely concealed her hair; and the profile of her face was turned towards the audience. It was impossible to give a more exquisite representation of a young Greek girl, parted from the home of her childhood and her affections. With all the beauty, but none of the brilliancy of youth-the perfect outline of face-the marble pale cheek, on which rested the long dark eyelash, curled and glistening with unshed tearsthe rich relief of the crimson turban, which made the face look even more colorless-the white slender throat-the finely curved mouth, whose deep red seemed that of fever, and wearing "The sweetness of a smile, the subdued and drooping attitude-nothing could more accurately depict the "delicate Ionian" pining for her own free and mountain village. The curtain fell, and in a few moments the fair pictures stepped into life. The countess, to whom activity was enjoyment, and who imagined if people were quiet they must be dull, proposed proverbs. The one they selected for illustration was "chemins divers-meme but" "divers roads, and the same end." The countess and Emily were two sisters, each of whom affect an attachment to the cavalier they care not for, to pique the one they prefer. Madame de Ligne, who always considered choice as her privilege, had a fancy for being sentimental; the livelier sister was, therefore, left in Emily's hands. Lorraine and Spenser were to enact the lovers; and the one or two subordinate parts were soon filled up by the rest of the company. Both Madame de Ligne and Edward acted admirably. Spenser was out of humor, and took his Englishman's privilege of showing it: but Emily was the charm of the piece. Her vivacity appeared as graceful as it was buoyant; her gay spirit seemed the musical overflowings of youth and happiness; her eye and cheek brightened together; and her sweet glad laugh was as catching as yawning. It is utterly impossible to say more. The little piece was shortened by Madame de Ligne, who, having always looked upon Emily as a pretty painting, had only expected her to make a good side scene, and was more surprised than pleased by a display that cast herself quite into the background. "Indeed, Ellen," said Lord Mandville, earnestly, "our little Emily is overacting her part. I grant that Lorraine must be struck with her improvement; but, indeed, there is too much display for attraction." "You are quite mistaken; but take no notice now," was the reply. "Is it possible," thought Lady Mandeville, "that I have all along been mistaken, and that Emily is in reality indifferent to Lorraine? Has she hitherto been withheld from expressing her real opinion from deference to mine, and from supposing him to be my favorite? This idea was only started to be rejected. A thousand slight but strong circumstances rose to her memory. "I do believe she had a preference for him; but, alas! |