But now he is to be a schoolmaster-and he is so stiff and pedantic"

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And, in short," concluded Miss O'Reilly, in answer to the fair objector, "tourifications and mnemonics have had their day, and du sublime au ridicule il n'y a qu'un pas."

While these whispered observations were circulating, poor Pendennis would have been in torture, but for the benevolent politeness of Geraldine. Though so lately arrived, she seemed the only person who thought of doing the honours of the house to him. She addressed him in his character of a tourist-the character in which he still regarded himself with most complacency; and Pendennis found, to his delight and astonishment, that, instead of a superficial Miss, dont les talens lui tenient lieu d'esprit, he was conversing with an elegant and highly-informed woman, with abilities to discuss every topic, and modesty to know when to be silent on all.

The

The two last years which, for family reasons, Geraldine had been suffered to spend at Mrs. Melmoth's, had been of the greatest service to her. In the course of that time, her education had received its highest finish. By its highest finish, I mean more than being taught to make a very elegant curtsey-to go in and out of a carriage at the word of command-to regulate the motions in walking by the eye of the drill-serjeant, and in dancing by the precepts of the figurante. In those two years Geraldine had attended lectures, exhibitions, concerts, and the theatres, sufficiently to gratify her thirst for knowledge, and to perfect her naturally-exquisite taste in literature and the fine arts; while the visits she made abroad, without being frequent enough to create a habit of dissipation, had answered the purpose of making the timidity of a recluse give place to the perfect polish and self-possession of a gentlewoman.

"Do, dear Mr. Pendennis," said Geral

dine, in a tone of playful pique that admirably became her beautiful mouth and

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voice of silver, " try to persuade these ladies they have been all day complimenting me in a way the least gratifying to my feelings, though the most honourable to the generosity and candour of theirs. They seem to think all merit comprised in my being from England, while it is the pride of my heart to think I was born in Ireland, and the hope of my existence never more to leave it.”

As Geraldine pronounced these words, with an animated blush arising from the sensibility by which they were dictated, her eye caught that of another fixed in irrepressible admiration on her face. It was Montfort's, who, with the rest of the gentlemen, had, by this time, joined the female party, and who was surprised out of his habitual caution and reserve, by hearing the accents of patriotism breathed from the loveliest lips, and uttered in the most enchanting voice that ever penetrated

trated to the heart of man.

Unconscious

ly she had touched a chord that ever found an answering vibration in his breast. He too was a native of Ireland-he too loved his country-with passion, with idolatry, loved her; but could he hope, like Geraldine, to close his days within her bosom? Ah, no! his lot more probably was, when known, to be rejected, and condemned once more to exile and to sorrow!

Influenced by the impressions of the moment, Montfort approached the place where Geraldine was seated, and, putting her harp in her hands, asked her, in a subdued tone, if such were her feelings, would she not give them utterance in one of those national melodies which speak so eloquently to every Irish heart? This harp was a proof of Geraldine's affectionate remembrance of her native land: it was a small one, constructed on the model of the Irish harp: round its frame, wreaths of ivy, convolvolus, and native shamrock, E 6

were

were twined, in a raised pattern of coloured enamel and gold. After a short prelude, her melodious voice was heard: she gave one of our finest native strains, with that exquisite taste and feeling which leave nothing for the ear or heart to desire. Charming!" whispered sir Charles Southwell; "but could you not give us something un peu plus recherchée ?"

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Advancing to the piano, Geraldine, with obliging readiness, immediately began one of those Portuguese airs termed Modinhas, and went through it with the characteristic graces of a native. At first the sounds were so low and murmuring, the accompaniment so monotonous, that the attention was scarcely excited; but, by degrees, the strain breathed such a plaintive sweetness, that every heart was touched, and every ear was thrilled. She then changed to a Modinhã of a more lively description. The character of this air was one of such national, peculiar, and arch simplicity-such exhilarating, yet de