nd colourless, with
a profusion of black silken ringlets that almost descended to his
shoulders. His eyes, deeply sunk into his head, were large and intensely
brilliant; and a thin moustache, curling downwards, gave an additional
austerity to his mouth, which was closed with gloomy and half-sarcastic
firmness. He was not dressed as people dress in general, but wore a
frock of dark camlet, with a large shirt-collar turned down, and a
narrow slip of black silk twisted rather than tied round his throat; his
nether garments fitted tight to his limbs, and a pair of half-hessians
completed his costume. It was evident that the young man (and he was
very young--perhaps about nineteen or twenty) indulged that coxcombry of
the Picturesque which is the sign of a vainer mind than is the commoner
coxcombry of the _Mode_.

It is astonishing how frequently it happens, that the introduction of
a single intruder upon a social party is sufficient to destroy all the
familiar harmony that existed there before. We see it even when the
intruder is agreeable and communicative--but in the present instance, a
ghost could scarcely have been a more unwelcoming or unwelcome visitor.
The presence of this shy, speechless, supercilious-looking man threw a
damp over the whole group. The gay Tirabaloschi immediately discovered
that it was time to depart--it had not struck any one before, but it
certainly _was_ late. The Italians began to bustle about, to collect
their music, to make fine speeches and fine professions--to bow and to
smile--to scramble into their boat, and to push towards the inn at Como,
where they had engaged their quarters for the night. As the boat glided
away, and while two of them were employed at the oar, the remaining
four took up their instruments and sang a parting glee. It was quite
midnight--the hush of all things around had grown more intense and
profound--there was a wonderful might of silence in the shining air and
amidst the shadows thrown by the near banks and the distant hills over
the water. So that as the music chiming in with the oars grew fainter
and fainter, it is impossible to describe the thrilling and magical
effect it produced.

The party ashore did not speak; there was a moisture, a grateful one,
in the bright eyes of Teresa, as she leant upon the manly form of De
Montaigne, for whom her attachment was, perhaps, yet more deep and
pure for the difference of their ages. A girl who once loves a man, not
indeed