issed her, as she had kissed the other young women, and then
held her off a little, looking at her. "Now this is quite another type,"
she said; she pronounced the word in the French manner. "This is a
different outline, my uncle, a different character, from that of your
own daughters. This, Felix," she went on, "is very much more what we
have always thought of as the American type."

The young girl, during this exposition, was smiling askance at every one
in turn, and at Felix out of turn. "I find only one type here!" cried
Felix, laughing. "The type adorable!"

This sally was received in perfect silence, but Felix, who learned
all things quickly, had already learned that the silences frequently
observed among his new acquaintances were not necessarily restrictive
or resentful. It was, as one might say, the silence of expectation,
of modesty. They were all standing round his sister, as if they were
expecting her to acquit herself of the exhibition of some peculiar
faculty, some brilliant talent. Their attitude seemed to imply that she
was a kind of conversational mountebank, attired, intellectually, in
gauze and spangles. This attitude gave a certain ironical force to
Madame Munster's next words. "Now this is your circle," she said to her
uncle. "This is your salon. These are your regular habitu; aaes, eh? I
am so glad to see you all together."

"Oh," said Mr. Wentworth, "they are always dropping in and out. You must
do the same."

"Father," interposed Charlotte Wentworth, "they must do something more."
And she turned her sweet, serious face, that seemed at once timid and
placid, upon their interesting visitor. "What is your name?" she asked.

"Eugenia-Camilla-Dolores," said the Baroness, smiling. "But you need n't
say all that."

"I will say Eugenia, if you will let me. You must come and stay with
us."

The Baroness laid her hand upon Charlotte's arm very tenderly; but she
reserved herself. She was wondering whether it would be possible to
"stay" with these people. "It would be very charming--very charming,"
she said; and her eyes wandered over the company, over the room. She
wished to gain time before committing herself. Her glance fell upon
young Mr. Brand, who stood there, with his arms folded and his hand
on his chin, looking at her. "The gentleman, I suppose, is a sort of
ecclesiastic," she said to Mr. Wentworth, lowering her voice a little.

"He is a minister," answered Mr. Wentworth.

"A Protestant?"