fortunate--peculiarly fortunate. Are the West-Indian ladies----"

"West-Indian ladies!" interrupted Mr. Vincent. "Surely, Miss Portman
cannot imagine that I am at this instant thinking of any West-Indian
lady!" Belinda looked up with an air of surprise. "Charming Miss Portman,"
continued he, "I have learnt to admire _European beauty, European
excellence_! I have acquired new ideas of the female character--ideas--
feelings that must henceforward render me exquisitely happy or exquisitely
miserable."

Miss Portman had been too often called "_charming_" to be much startled or
delighted by the sound: the word would have passed by unnoticed, but there
was something so impassioned in Mr. Vincent's manner, that she could no
longer mistake it for common gallantry, and she was in evident confusion.
Now for the first time the idea of Mr. Vincent as a lover came into her
mind: the next instant she accused herself of vanity, and dreaded that he
should read her thoughts. "Exquisitely miserable!" said she, in a tone of
raillery: "I should not suppose, from what I have seen of Mr. Vincent,
that any thing could make him exquisitely miserable."

"Then you do not know my character--you do not know my heart: it is in
_your_ power to make me exquisitely miserable. Mine is not the cold,
hackneyed phrase of gallantry, but the fervid language of passion," cried
he, seizing her hand.

At this instant one of the children came in with some flowers to Belinda;
and, glad of the interruption, she hastily put up her drawings and left
the room, observing that she should scarcely have time to dress before
dinner. However, as soon as she found herself alone, she forgot how late
it was; and though she sat down before the glass to dress, she made no