Mr. Montenero concluded his panegyric on Cano's genius by saying, "Besides being a great genius, we are told that he was very religious, and, some few peculiarities excepted, very charitable.”

"You are very charitable, I am sure," said miss Montenero, looking at her father, and smiling: "I am not sure that I could speak so charitably of that man." A sigh quickly followed her smile, and I now recollected having heard or read that this painter bore such an antipathy to the Jews, that he considered every touch of theirs as contamination; and, if he accidentally came in contact with them, would cast off and give away his clothes, forbidding the servant to whom he gave them on any account to wear them.

Miss Montenero saw that I recollected to what she alluded-that I had a just feeling of the benevolent magnanimity of her father's character. This raised me, I perceived, in the daughter's opinion. Though scarcely a word passed at the moment, yet I fancied that we felt immediately better acquainted. I ventured to go and stand beside her, from doing which I had hitherto been prevented by I know not what insurmountable difficulty or strange spell.

We were both opposite to a Spanish copy of Guido's Aurora Surgens. I observed that the flame of the torch borne by the winged boy, representing Lucifer, points westward, in a direction contrary to that in which the manes of the horses, the drapery of Apollo, and that of the dancing Hours, are blown, which seemed to me to be a mistake.

Berenice said that Guido had taken this picture from Ovid's description, and that he had, with great art, represented, by the very circumstance to which Į objected, the swiftness of the motion with which the

chariot was driven forward. The current of the morning wind blowing from the east was represented by the direction of the hair of Lucifer, and of the flame of his torch; while the rapidity of the motion of the chariot was such, that, notwithstanding the eastern wind which would otherwise have blown them towards the west, the manes of the horses, and the drapery of the figures, were driven backwards, by the resistance of the air against which they were hurried.

She then repeated, in a pleasing but timid manner, in support of her opinion, these two beautiful lines of Addison's translation.

"With winged speed outstrips the eastern wind,

And leaves the breezes of the morn behind."

I need not say that I was delighted with this criticism, and with the modest manner in which it was spoken: but I could not honestly help remarking that, to the description immediately alluded to in Ovid, Addison had added the second beautiful line,

"And leaves the breezes of the morn behind."

Mr. Montenero looked pleased, and said to me, "It is very true, in the immediate passage describing the chariot of the Sun issuing from the gates of Heaven, this line is not in the original; but if you look farther back in the fable, you will find that the idea is still more strongly expressed in the Latin than in the English."

It was with the utmost difficulty that I at last forced myself away, nor was I in the least aware of the unconscionable length of my visit. What particularly pleased me in the conversation of miss

Montenero was, that she had none of those fashionable phrases, which fill each vacuity of sense, and which level all distinctions of understanding. There was none of that commonplace stuff which passes for conversation in the world, and which we hear and repeat till we are equally tired of others and of ourselves.

There were, besides, in her manner and countenance indications of perfect sweetness of temper, a sort of feminine gentleness and softness which art cannot feign nor affectation counterfeit ; a gentleness, which, while it is the charm of female manners, is perfectly consistent with true spirit, and with the higher or the stronger qualities of the mind. All I had seen of miss Montenero in this first visit inspired me with the most ardent desire to see more. Here was a woman who could fill my whole soul; who could at once touch my heart and my imagination. I felt inspired with new life-I had now a great object, a strong and lively interest in existence. At parting, Mr. Montenero shook hands with me, which, he said, he knew was the English mode of showing kindness: he expressed an earnest, but proudly guarded wish, that I might be so circumstanced, and so inclined, as to allow him the pleasure he much desired, of cultivating my acquaintance.

CHAPTER X.

THE interest which Berenice inspired so completely absorbed my mind, that I never thought again of Jacob and his story, till I met lady Anne and her brother the next morning, when I went to take a ride in the park they were with colonel Topham, and some people of her ladyship's acquaintance.

Lady Anne, after the usual preliminary quantity of nonsense, and after she had questioned and crossquestioned me, to the best of her slender abilities, about the Jewess, told me a long story about herself, and her fears, and the fears of her mare, and a horselaugh of Mowbray's which colonel Topham said no horse could stand: not much applause ensuing from me, she returned to the witty colonel, and left me to her brother. Mowbray directly began to talk about Jacob. He said he supposed Jacob had not failed to make his Gibraltar story good; but that "Hear both sides" was an indispensable maxim, even where such a favourite as Jacob was concerned. "But first let us take one other good gallop," said Mowbray; "Anne, I leave you here with Mrs. Carrill and colonel Topham;" and away he galloped. When he thought, as he said, that he had shaken off some of my prejudices, he drew up his horse, and talked over the Gibraltar affair.

His dashing, jocular, military mode of telling the thing, so different from Jacob's plain, mercantile, matter-of-fact method, quite changed my view and opinion of the transaction. Mowbray blamed himself with such a good grace, and wished so fervently that he could make any reparation to "the poor devils

who had suffered," that I acquitted him of all malice, and forgave his imprudence.

The frankness with which he spoke to Jacob, when they met, was proof conclusive to me that he was incapable, as he declared, of harbouring any malice against Jew or Christian. He inquired most particularly into Jacob's own losses at Gibraltar, called for pen, ink, and paper, and in his off-hand manner wrote a draught on his banker, and put it into Jacob's hand. 66 Here, my honest Jacob, you are a Jew, whose accounts I can take at your word. Let this settle the balance between us. No scruples, Jacobno present this-nothing but remuneration for your losses."

Jacob accepted lord Mowbray's apologies, but could not by any means be prevailed upon to accept from him any present or remuneration. He seemed willing to forgive, but not to trust lord Mowbray. All trace of resentment was cleared from his countenance, but no condescension of his lordship could move Jacob to throw off his reserve beyond a certain point. He conquered aversion, but he would not pretend to like. Mr. Montenero came into the room while we were speaking, and I presented lord Mowbray to him. There was as marked a difference as politeness would allow in Mr. Montenero's manner towards his lordship and towards me, which I justly attributed to Jacob's previous representations. We looked at the pictures, and talked, and loitered, but I turned my eyes in vain to the door every time it opened-no miss Montenero appeared. I was so much preoccupied with my object that I was silent, and left Mowbray to make his own way, which no one was more capable of doing. In a few minutes, he was in full conversation. He went over again, without my attending