ned, was
his courteous reply.

'Then you must dine with papa, to-morrow.'

Mr. Ferrers' brow immediately clouded.

'Now, do not look so suspicious,' said Miss Ponsonby. 'Do you think that
ours is an Italian banquet? Is there poison in the dish? Or do you live
only on fruit and flowers?' continued Miss Ponsonby. 'Do you know,' she
added, with an arch smile, 'I think you must be a ghoul.'

A sort of smile struggled with a scowl over the haughty countenance of
the Englishman.

'You will come!' said Miss Ponsonby, most winningly.

'I have already trespassed too much upon Major Ponsonby's hospitality,'
muttered Mr. Ferrers; 'I have no claim to it.'

'You are our countryman.'

'Unknown.'

'The common consequence of being a traveller.'

'Yes--but--in short--I--'

'You must come,' said Miss Ponsonby, with a glance like sunshine.

'You do with me what you like,' exclaimed Mr. Ferrers, with animation.
'Beautiful--weather,' he concluded.

Mr. Ferrers was therefore their guest; and strange it is to say, that
from this day, from some cause, which it is now useless to ascertain,
this gentleman became an habitual guest at the Consul's table; accepting
a general invitation without even a frown; and, what is more remarkable,
availing himself of it, scarcely with an exception.

Could it be the Consul's daughter that effected this revolution? Time
may perhaps solve this interesting problem. Certainly, whether it were
that she was seldom seen to more advantage than when presiding over
society; or whether, elate with her triumph, she was particularly
pleasing because she was particularly pleased; certainly Henrietta
Ponsonby never appeared to greater advantage than she did upon the day
of this memorable festival. Mr. Ferrers, when he quitted the house,
sauntered to the mole, and gazed upon the moonlight sea.-A dangerous
symptom. Yet the eye of Mr. Ferrers had before this been fixed in mute
abstraction on many a summer wave, when Dian was in her bower; and
this man, cold and inscrutable as he seemed, was learned in woman, and
woman's ways. Shall a Consul's daughter melt a heart that boasted of
being callous, and clear a brow that prided itself upon its clouds?

But if the state of Mr. Ferrers' heart were doubtful, I must perforce
confess that, as time drew on, Henrietta Ponsonby, if she had ventured
to inquire, could have little hesitated as to the state of her own
feelings. Her companion, her constant companion, for such