This little incident gave rise to a thousand fanciful illustrations on the part of Acmé. Her spirits were as buoyant as a child's; and her playful mood soon communicated itself to her travelling companions. They compared the solitary ray to virtue in loneliness--to the flickering of a lamp in a tomb--to a star reflected on quicksilver--to the flash of a sword cutting through a host of foes--and to the light of genius illuming scenes of poverty and distress. Thompson made his appearance, and announced the supper as being ready. "This," said George, good-naturedly, "is an odd place, is it not, Thompson? Is it anything like the Lincolnshire Fens?" "Not exactly, your honour!" replied the domestic, with perfect gravity, "but there ought to be capital snipe shooting here." "Ah! che vero Inglese!" said the laughing Acmé. They retraced their steps to the inn, and were ushered into the supper room, which was neither more nor less than the kitchen, although formerly, perhaps, the show room of the mansion. Around the deep-set fireplace, watching the simmering of the cauldron, were grouped some peasants. The supper table was laid in one corner of the room; and although neither the accommodation nor the viands were very tempting, there was such a disposition to be happy, that the meal was as much enjoyed as if served up in a palace. The repast concluded, Acmé rose; and observing a countryman with his arm bound up, enquired if he had met with an accident; and patiently listened to the prosy narrative of age. An old bronzed husbandman, too, was smoking his short earthen pipe, near the window sill. "What a study for Lanfranc!" said the happy wife, as she took up a burnt stick, and sketched his dried visage to the life. The old man regarded his portrait on the wall, with intense satisfaction; and commenced dilating on what he had been in youth. How different, thought Sir Henry, is all this from the conduct of a well bred English girl! yet how natural and amiable does it appear in Acmé! With what an endearing manner--with what sweet frankness--does this young foreigner wile away--what would otherwise have been--a tedious evening in an uncomfortable inn! As the night advanced, George brought out the guitar; and Acmé warbled to its accompaniment like a fairy bird. It was a late hour, before Delmé ventured to remind the songstress, that they must prosecute their journey early on the following morning. "I will take your hint," said Acmé, as she shook his hand, and tripped out of the room; "buona sera! miei Signori." "She is a dear creature!" said Delmé, "She is indeed!" replied his brother, "and I am a fortunate man. Henry! I think I shall be jealous of you, one of these days. I do believe she loves you as well as she does me!" The brothers retired. Sir Henry's repose was unbroken, until morning dawned; when George entered his room in the greatest agitation, and with a face as pale as death, told him Acmé was ill.