none of that happy indefiniteness of manner which seems to declare
"I would love you if I might," or "I do, but I dare not tell," even when
engaged in the most trivial attentions--handing a footstool, remarking on
the soup, etc. You none of you know how to meet a woman's smile, or to
engage her eyes without boldness--to slide off them, as it were,
gracefully. Evan alone can look between the eyelids of a woman. I have
had to correct him, for to me he quite exposes the state of his heart
towards dearest Rose. She listens to Mr. Forth with evident esteem. In
Portugal we do not understand young ladies having male friends.

'Hamilton Jocelyn--all politics. The stiff Englishman. Not a shade of
manners. He invited me to drink wine. Before I had finished my bow his
glass was empty--the man was telling an anecdote of Lord Livelyston!
You may be sure, my dear, I did not say I had seen his lordship.

'Seymour Jocelyn, Colonel of Hussars. He did nothing but sigh for the
cold weather, and hunting. All I envied him was his moustache for Evan.
Will you believe that the ridiculous boy has shaved!

'Then there is Melville, my dear diplomatist; and here is another
instance of our Harrington luck. He has the gout in his right hand; he
can only just hold knife and fork, and is interdicted Port-wine and
penmanship. The dinner was not concluded before I had arranged that Evan
should resume (gratuitously, you know) his post of secretary to him. So
here is Evan fixed at Beckley Court as long as Melville stays. Talking
of him, I am horrified suddenly. They call him the great Mel!
'Sir Franks is most estimable, I am sure, as a man, and redolent of
excellent qualities--a beautiful disposition, very handsome. He has just
as much and no more of the English polish one ordinarily meets. When he
has given me soup or fish, bowed to me over wine, and asked a