as unfavorable an impression upon me as he had already
produced upon Ida.

It was whimsical enough; but I really could not tell why I disliked him,
though I could account very easily, according to my own notions, for
his winning the favor and approval of Rosamond and her father. He was
certainly a handsome man as far as features went; he had a winning
gentleness and graceful respect in his manner when he spoke to women;
and he sang remarkably well, with one of the sweetest tenor voices I
ever heard. These qualities alone were quite sufficient to attract any
girl of Rosamond's disposition; and I certainly never wondered why he
was a favorite of hers.

Then, as to her father, the baron was not only fitted to win his
sympathy and regard in the field, by proving himself an ardent sportsman
and an excellent rider; but was also, in virtue of some of his minor
personal peculiarities, just the man to gain the friendship of his host.
Mr. Welwyn was as ridiculously prejudiced as most weak-headed Englishmen
are, on the subject of foreigners in general. In spite of his visit to
Paris, the vulgar notion of a Frenchman continued to be _his_ notion,
both while he was in France and when he returned from it. Now, the baron
was as unlike the traditional "Mounseer" of English songs, plays, and
satires, as a man could well be; and it was on account of this very
dissimilarity that Mr. Welwyn first took a violent fancy to him, and
then invited him to his house. Franval spoke English remarkably well;
wore neither beard, mustache, nor whiskers; kept his hair cut almost
unbecomingly short; dressed in the extreme of plainness and modest good
taste; talked little in general society; uttered his words, when he did
speak, with singular calmness and deliberation; and, to crown all,
had the greater part of his acquired property invested in English
securities. In Mr. Welwyn's estimation, such a man as this was a perfect
miracle of a Frenchman, and he admired and encouraged him accordingly.

I have said that I disliked him, yet could not assign a reason for my
dislike; and I can only repeat it now. He was remarkably polite to me;
we often rode together in hunting, and sat near each other at the Grange
table; but I could never become familiar with him. He always gave me
the idea of a man who had some mental reservation in saying the most
trifling thing. There was a constant restraint, hardly perceptible to
most people, but plainly visible, neverthele