limbs supple and mobile-opposed to that condition of corpulency and inactive disposition which tend to induce disease, and bring on faster the work of decay. His thin features, with long nose, easily inflated nostrils, closed mouth, large and dark-flashing eyes, and the lofty brow, though wrinkled over with many a deep and furrowing line of thought, attested no common mind; while the small hand and little foot suggested his high descent, and that the warm blood of a sunny clime circulated along his veins. His dress was plain, but after the fashion of the French, and from such it alone slightly differed in being less ostentatious, and more free from finery.

Madame Vauville, at a guess, might be forty, and though beauty had passed away, its faded footsteps were still traceable. In manners she was graceful and pleasing, and her countenance gave indubitable evidence of vivacity and wit. Her costume was modest and unassuming; inclined to humbleness and simplicity, rather than fashion and gaiety. It, however, suited her person, and she perhaps looked more taking than if arrayed in the gaudy attirements which so-called fashion decks the fascinating belle. She had round her neck a chain of amber, to which were attached a small miniature and a golden crucifix. On the third finger of the left hand was an amulet, in which sparkled a costly brilliant.

Mademoiselle de Berryer, her young and captivating companion, was in the bloom and sprightliness of youth. She did not appear to have seen more than eighteen summers. A cursory glance showed her to be the fortunate possessor of a thousand attractions; there was that face which but an hour ago had so forcibly struck me, and which I could already not look upon without an admiration somewhat akin to love, beaming as it did with radiant smiles, and striking the beholder with all that influence and power which exceeding beauty in the gentler sex seldom fails to exert. The varied expression of modest confusion, the winning bashfulness of early years, the stolen glances of one who was a stranger, the quiet demeanour, and, too, the melancholy tinge into which those dark and dazzling eyes subsided, added to the enchantment under which I began to feel affected. A Domminichini or a Salvator Rosa would have delighted in beauty so unconscious-so irresistibly charming. Between the lineaments of monsieur and herself there was an evident resemblance, and the more the likeness was traced, the more convincing the comparison appeared. The plaintive cast of her features; the quiet flashes of those lustrous orbs, that ever and anon bespoke the intelligent conceptions of a soul full of sensibility and thought; the long silken fringes of their slightly drooping lids; the Grecian nose; small but well-formed mouth, around which, ever and anon, the merry smile would play, and then expose a set of ivory teeth which were remarked for their regularity and whiteness; the olive tint of her complexion shone out in more relief when the mantling blush added its damask tinge; the glossy brightness of her raven hair, which was tastefully arranged in the Madonna style, and here and there its thick tresses kept in their position by silver bands; her full though half-veiled bust, tiny fingers, and sylph-like form, were the personal attractions of Mademoiselle de Berryer-the fascinations which rendered her one of the loveliest of her sex. The poet and painter might have exerted their powers of imagination to describe or picture an ideal beauty; but nature in this reality would have beggared the

noblest essays of the most creative genius. She was the embodied personation of what Anacreons, Byrons, and Moores, have sung-the kind of being tried to be represented by magic pencils which make "forms from canvas breathe. Her mind, though guileless and innocent as infantile thoughts, was subtle and powerful in its reasonings. It seemed impossible that she could be altogether insensible of her personal charms; but her soul was of too high an order to be carried away by the vain boastings of a transient beauty that a gracious Providence had conferred, and which, as she rightly said, was a gift, and no result of self-merit, therefore ought not to be exulted in. She had no fears that a more extensive intercourse with the world would generate affectation and pride-the offspring of weakness and vanity. Her attire was plain, but composed of costly materials. She wore a blue silken dress, made without the least attempt at fashion and finery; around her shoulders was drawn, as if negligently, a dark crimson mantilla, which, as worn by Spanish ladies, had a hood, that in the open air served as head-dress, as it could be easily drawn, not only on the head, but over the face; just as it is seen on the Spanish belle in the present day. On the index-finger of her left hand was a large emerald set in a chased mounting, and around her right arm was a simple bracelet made of hair, as ebon black as her own. There was something in her costume, as in her manners, that pronounced superiority and distinction.

For some short time after my introduction the conversation was formal, and the topics were merely those commonplace and unimportant subjects which strangers have recourse to in order to avoid what might seem an awkward taciturnity. We recounted the weather, not only for that day, but a week previously; speculated on the probabilities of a freshening breeze, as we now heard the wind sigh, and at times shrilly whistle, as it blew through the rigging with its mesh-work of cordage and ropes. Then we returned to Cadiz, and from there steered off on the general condition of Spain and Portugal. I soon found M. de Berryer to be a person of considerable information, and possessed of first-rate conversational powers. He, at length, entered upon each point of discourse with earnestness, and spoke with all that precision and logical tone of reasoning indicative of the thinker and the scholar. As to myself, to be candid, I was stupid and uncollected; my mental faculties felt clouded and confused, and such resulted from my absorbing admiration of Madeline de Berryer, who was even now a very enchantress over my soul. I did not follow up the train of argument, and on one or two occasions said "yes" when I ought to have replied "no." I then tried to extricate myself from the dilemma, and only made myself more foolish; at which Madame Vauville bit her lips, and mademoiselle returned an arch look and suppressed smile.

"You look cold, monsieur," said de Berryer, after having for some time conversed, and perceiving I was seated somewhat distant from the fire-" you look chilly; and, if I remember right, our commander said you were now an invalid? You had better come to this seat near the stove. Madeline, my love, sit by me on the couch, and give to the gentleman your warmer seat in the corner. You had better move there. Do, if you please, monsieur," continued De Berryer, with much apparent kindness, and as if he really felt for my ill state of health.

Before I could make any reply, Madeline had sprung from the chair in the corner, and was seated on the couch by her father. I was about to entreat the young lady to remain where she had been; but the politeness of the two insisted on my accepting of their polite attentions. The father spoke English, but, like most foreigners, indifferently. Madeline, however, addressed me in a manner that showed her greater proficiency in our language; and when her father could not clearly express himself, she took upon her the gentle office of being his interpreter. I had not forgot my French, and as the quartette could express themselves in that tongue, we adopted it as the most agreeable to the party.

"Have you been an invalid some time?" inquired Monsieur de Berryer, as he looked me in the face, and spoke in a tone of tenderness and paternal feeling.

"During several months," replied I, "my health has been indifferent, and, at the request of my physicians, I now return, in the hopes of improvement, to my native land."

"You are right, monsieur, you are right. Health is beyond every other blessing. We, too, are going to England," concluded De Berryer, in a half-suppressed sigh.

"Were you ever in England, monsieur ?" asked I.

"Never."

"The captain calculates our voyage at seven or eight days from Malaga to the Thames, if only the winds are favourable," continued I. "But we are tacking now, monsieur," replied De Berryer, "and the wind blows well-nigh full ahead—but here comes our commander. Captain, pray how long do you suppose we shall be on our voyage? From what I know of seafaring matters, our progress is unusually slow."

"God only knows how long we shall be. This morning there was not wind enough to fill a petticoat; and now, when it has freshened a little, it is full against us," returned the hardy son of Neptune, in rough and ronchous voice, which was quite in keeping with bluff, weatherbeaten features, broad shoulders, and herculean frame of that choice specimen of the British tar.

"Well, well, never mind, only the steward's room be well stored," observed De Berryer; "if we are blown out to sea we will make the best of it. I have been under more unfavourable circumstances in my time."

The captain assured us, that if blown out to sea, we should not have to undergo the misery of short commons; at the same time he moved off to the opposite side of the cabin, and opening a locker, as if unperceived by, or perhaps regardless of those around, poured out, and then threw down his throat, a glassful of neat rum, which matter-of-course action might have passed unnoticed, had it not been for the hearty smack which he gave as if in the honest appreciation of the prime old Jamaica that he had received as a present from a West India trader. The ladies were evidently amused at his coarse bluntness; and when they gazed upon his brawny proportions, those huge whiskers, that sea-burnt face, the sou'-wester, and pilot coat, they did indeed contemplate with amazement such a burly, untutored son of humanity.

"Monsieur Sommerton, do you play at chess?" asked De Berryer; "if you do, I should be delighted to have a battle with you."

"It will give me great pleasure, monsieur," replied I; “and many a

long and obstinate game I have contended at Gibraltar with my brother officers, to wile away the often irksome monotony of a garrison life. But perhaps the ladies would like to play ?" continued I, then throwing an admiring glance at the bewitching dark eyes by my side.

"No-no, you and monsieur play, Captain Sommerton," answered they, both simultaneously; "and we, if you please, will be spectators." "Madeline, my dearest, go into my berth, and you will find the chessmen immediately on opening the large trunk," said the father, at the same time placing in his beautiful daughter's hand the key.

Madeline arose, drawing her mantilla more closely around her, proceeded to De Berryer's dormitory, and soon returned with the white and red armies for the contest. Ere long, De Berryer and I were absorbed in the game; and although I was the allowed champion in our garrison, I could perceive from a few moves that my opponent was more than a match for me. Both from the first seemed determined on victory, and

each made his move with more than common care and calculation. Now a move; then, after a long and reflective pause, another; neither spoke ; the ladies anxiously watched the contest, and more than two hours had passed over before Madeline clapped her hands exultingly: "Checkmate, monsieur, the gentleman has beat you!" She then burst into a good-natured laugh, and said, "Monsieur, it is a long time since you had so tiresome a rival as Captain Sommerton."

"You must indeed have had considerable practice, Captain Sommerton," observed Madame Vauville, "as Monsieur De Berryer is deemed a very superior player. I trust this will be the prelude to many a coming game."

"I shall have much pleasure-very much pleasure in playing to-morrow; nor should I have minded another trial of our strength to-night; but my doctors insisted on the desirableness of my retiring at an early hour."

"To-morrow-to-morrow, captain," said De Berryer; "you are right in attending to the injunctions of your medical advisers. I am glad to find in you so powerful an enemy. The renewal of these conflicts will to us both make the otherwise dull hours at sea pass pleasantly. But here comes the supper. Jules (to the man-servant), set the ladies' chairs on the opposite side, and go fetch me dry toast and tea-'twill suit me better to take a light repast than to eat more substantial viands.”

As to myself, I could take nothing; and after having drank a couple of glasses of Sauterne, I bade my newly-formed friends good night. When partly undressed, I threw my back against the partition of my snug dormitory, thrust my hands into the pockets of my pantaloons, and was instanter lost in reverie. On the previous evening I was overjoyed at the thoughts of returning to my native land, and conceived the voyage alone lay between me and that pleasure; now-aye-so soon I thought otherwise, I cared not whither the winds blew us-where the fates tossed us-would not have minded being driven to the antipodes-only-only Madeline was there! Home, country, friends, and pleasures, were quite forgotten in that absent trance!" Then, breaking silence, I exclaimed, "who can she be, and what is De Berryer? I would give my commission to know. I would have her-yes!-yes! if she had not a ducat for her dowry."

66

To have been deeply and devotedly, however inconsistently, in love with an entire bevy of fair ladies, one after the other, in rapid succession, is, we would fain hope, more pardonable where they are the creatures of fiction than in real life. Otherwise we are verily and exuberantly guilty in this matter; and, in common with us, Mrs. Marsh, the author of this manifold calamity, has much to answer for. If we have been susceptible so often, and so often faithless—now over head and ears in love with an innocent brunette, now engaged past recal to a pensive blonde-if we have been as comprehensive and gradational in our affections as the vacillating poet who sings, unblushingly enough, how he was enamoured of an infinite series of Marys and Annes, Isabellas and Marthas

Gentle Henrietta then,

And a third Mary next began,

Then Joan, and Jane, and Audria,
And then a pretty Thomasine,

And then another Catherine,

And then a long " et cetera,"

if we have been absorbed in attachment to an Angela, and then sworn eternal fealty to a Flavia, and next week vowed everything that pretty is to a little Joan Grant, and anon plighted our troth to a Clarice de Vere, and haud longo intervallo done the same to a bewitching Clarinda, and then been enthralled by the power of that awful demoiselle, Grace Vaux, and in a trice raving about Lila, and charmed to a "power" which has no mathematical symbol by Emilia Wyndham-if by these and a score besides of equivalent syrens, we have been seduced from constancy and final perseverance, and have in intent been polygamists of inveterate habit and illimitable range-then we turn round, ungratefully, but not causelessly, upon the author of all our mishaps, and accuse her of being accomplice before the fact, and piteously upbraid her with the reproach, Why did you make them all so winning, if it was a sin in us to be won? Why did you create them with such powers, if the exercise must needs entail aggravated mischief? Some creators fail to charm us with their creations, charm they never so wisely. But you and yours have no such excuse. And you at least cannot join in the impeachment of inconstancy against us, for you it was who produced in rapid succession each too fascinating fair one, and who qualified each with a peerless pair of bright eyes to rain influence upon us, and adjudge the prize to herself. Our sin lies at your door, and day and night on you it cries, as with the west-end thunder of a footman's double rap.

Another point in which we have again and again felt Mrs. Marsh's

* Cowley: "The Chronicle." Abraham's only compunction seems to have been felt when there ensued a temporary cessation of these engagements: whereupon he says,

"Thousand worse passions then possess'd

The interregnum of my breast;

Bless me from such an anarchy!"