idea is due to my brother,' she went on; 'for I--women know so
little!--and most guiltlessly should we have done so. My brother perhaps
does not think of us foremost; but his argument I can distinguish. I
can see, that were you openly to plead Silva's cause, you might bring
yourself into odium, Mr. Jocelyn; and heaven knows I would not that! May
I then ask, that in England we may be simply upon the same footing of
private friendship?'

The diplomatist looked into her uplifted visage, that had all the sugary
sparkles of a crystallized preserved fruit of the Portugal clime, and
observed, confidentially, that, with every willingness in the world to
serve her, he did think it would possibly be better, for a time, to be
upon that footing, apart from political considerations.

'I was very sure my brother would apprehend your views,' said the
Countess. 'He, poor boy! his career is closed. He must sink into a
different sphere. He will greatly miss the intercourse with you and your
sweet family.'

Further relieved, the diplomatist delivered a high opinion of the young
gentleman, his abilities, and his conduct, and trusted he should see him
frequently.

By an apparent sacrifice, the lady thus obtained what she wanted.

Near the hour speculated on by the diplomatist, the papers came on
board, and he, unaware how he had been manoeuvred for lack of a wife at
his elbow, was quickly engaged in appeasing the great British hunger
for news; second only to that for beef, it seems, and equally acceptable
salted when it cannot be had fresh.

Leaving the devotee of statecraft with his legs crossed, and his face
wearing the cognizant air of one whose head is above the waters of
events, to enjoy the mighty meal of fresh and salted at discretion, the
Countess dived below.

Meantime the Jocasta, as smoothly as before she was ignorant of how the
world wagged, slipped up the river with the tide; and the sun hung red
behind the forest of masts, burnishing a broad length of the serpentine
haven of the nations of the earth. A young Englishman returning home can
hardly look on this scene without some pride of kinship. Evan stood at
the fore part of the vessel. Rose, in quiet English attire, had escaped
from her aunt to join him, singing in his ears, to spur his senses:
'Isn't it beautiful? Isn't it beautiful? Dear old England!'

'What do you find so beautiful?' he asked.

'Oh, you dull fellow! Why the ships, and the houses, and the smoke, t