in. I never was in such
spirits in my life. Two bottles of champagne under my belt, and a cheque
for three hundred Paul has just given me without a scrape of my pen; it
might have been five if I had only had presence of mind.'

'Where is Miss Bellew all this time?' inquired I.

'I only saw her a moment; she looks saucy, and won't dance.'

My pride, somewhat stimulated by a fact which I could not help
interpreting in Miss Bellew's favour, I went through the rooms in search
of her, and at length discovered her in a boudoir, where a whist-party
were assembled. She was sitting upon a sofa, beside a tall,
venerable-looking old man, to whom she was listening with a semblance of
the greatest attention as I entered. I had some time to observe her,
and could not help feeling struck how much handsomer she was than I had
formerly supposed. Her figure, slightly above the middle size, and
most graceful in all its proportions, was, perhaps, a little too much
disposed to embonpoint; the character of her features, however, seemed
to suit, if not actually to require as much. Her eyes of deep blue, set
well beneath her brow, had a look of intensity in them that evidenced
thought; but the other features relieved by their graceful softness
this strong expression, and a nose short and slightly, very slightly
_retrousse_, with a mouth, the very perfection of eloquent and winning
softness, made ample amends to those who prefer charms purely feminine
to beauty of a severer character. Her hair, too, was of that deep auburn
through which a golden light seems for ever playing; and this, contrary
to the taste of the day, she wore simply braided upon her temple and
cheeks, marking the oval contour of her face, and displaying, by this
graceful coquetry, the perfect chiselling of her features. Let me add
to this, that her voice was low and soft in all its tones; and, if the
provincialism with which she spoke did at first offend my ear, I learned
afterwards to think that the breathing intonations of the west lent a
charm of their own to all she said, deepening the pathos of a simple
story, or heightening the drollery of a merry one. Yes, laugh if you
will, ye high-bred and high-born denizens of a richer sphere, whose
ears, attuned to the rhythm of Metastasio, softly borne on the strains
of Donizetti, can scarce pardon the intrusion of your native tongue in
the everyday concerns of life--smile if it so please ye; but from the
lips of a lovely woman,