by birth, and a thoroughly competent and trustworthy
man, Mr. Sarrazin labored under one inveterate delusion; he firmly
believed that his original French nature had been completely eradicated,
under the influence of our insular climate and our insular customs.
No matter how often the strain of the lively French blood might assert
itself, at inconvenient times and under regrettable circumstances,
he never recognized this foreign side of his character. His excellent
spirits, his quick sympathies, his bright mutability of mind--all
those qualities, in short, which were most mischievously ready to raise
distrust in the mind of English clients, before their sentiment changed
for the better under the light of later experience--were attributed
by Mr. Sarrazin to the exhilarating influence of his happy domestic
circumstances and his successful professional career. His essentially
English wife; his essentially English children; his whiskers, his
politics, his umbrella, his pew at church, his plum pudding, his _Times_
newspaper, all answered for him (he was accustomed to say) as an inbred
member of the glorious nation that rejoices in hunting the fox, and
believes in innumerable pills.

This excellent man arrived at the cottage, desperately fatigued after
his long journey, but in perfect possession of his incomparable temper,
nevertheless.

He afforded a proof of this happy state of mind, on sitting down to his
supper. An epicure, if ever there was one yet, he found the solid part
of the refreshments offered to him to consist of a chop. The old
French blood curdled at the sight of it--but the true-born Englishman
heroically devoted himself to the national meal. At the same time the
French vivacity discovered a kindred soul in Kitty; Mr. Sarrazin became
her intimate friend in five minutes. He listened to her and talked to
her, as if the child had been his client, and fishing from the pier the
business which had brought him from London. To Mrs. Presty's disgust,
he turned up a corner of the table-cloth, when he had finished his
chop, and began to conjure so deftly with the spoons and forks that poor
little Kitty (often dull, now, under the changed domestic circumstances
of her life) clapped her hands with pleasure, and became the joyous
child of the happy old times once more. Mrs. Linley, flattered in her
maternal love and her maternal pride, never thought of recalling this
extraordinary lawyer to the business that was waiting to