in a street not far from Russell Square. Though they were in no
more than comfortable circumstances, the captain's wife came of an
ancient family whose genealogical tree was interlaced with some of
the most illustrious and well-known in the kingdom.

The young lady, their daughter, seemed to Graye by far the most
beautiful and queenly being he had ever beheld. She was about
nineteen or twenty, and her name was Cytherea. In truth she was not
so very unlike country girls of that type of beauty, except in one
respect. She was perfect in her manner and bearing, and they were
not. A mere distinguishing peculiarity, by catching the eye, is
often read as the pervading characteristic, and she appeared to him
no less than perfection throughout--transcending her rural rivals in
very nature. Graye did a thing the blissfulness of which was only
eclipsed by its hazardousness. He loved her at first sight.

His introductions had led him into contact with Cytherea and her
parents two or three times on the first week of his arrival in
London, and accident and a lover's contrivance brought them together
as frequently the week following. The parents liked young Graye,
and having few friends (for their equals in blood were their
superiors in position), he was received on very generous terms. His
passion for Cytherea grew not only strong, but ineffably exalted:
she, without positively encouraging him, tacitly assented to his
schemes for being near her. Her father and mother seemed to have
lost all confidence in nobility of birth, without money to give
effect to its presence, and looked upon the budding consequence of
the young people's reciprocal glances with placidity, if not actual
favour.