_Mr. Forester._ And why should she not? Far from desiring to suppress such a noble ambition, how delightful should I think the task of conducting the lovely aspirant through the treasures of Grecian genius!—to wander hand in hand with such a companion among the valleys and fountains of Ida, and by the banks of the eddying Scamander;[37] through the island of Calypso, and the gardens of Alcinous;[38] to the rocks of the Scythian desert;[39] to the caverned shores of the solitary Lemnos;[40] and to the fatal sands of Troezene[41] to kindle in such scenes the enthusiasm of such a mind, and to see the eyes of love and beauty beaming with their reflected inspiration! Miserably perverted, indeed, must be the selfishness of him who, having such happiness in his power, would, Like the base Indian, throw a pearl away, Richer than all his tribe. _Mr. Fax._ My friend’s enthusiasm, Miss Melincourt, usually runs away with him when any allusion is made to ancient Greece. Mr. Forester had spoken with ardour and animation; for the scenes of which he spoke rose upon his mind and depicted in the incomparable poetry to which he had alluded; the figurative idea of wandering among them with a young and beautiful female aspirant assumed for a moment a visionary reality; and when he subsequently reflected on it it appeared to him very singular that the female figure in the mental picture had assumed the form and features of Anthelia Melincourt. Anthelia, too, saw in the animated countenance of Sylvan Forester traces of more than common feeling, generosity, and intelligence: his imaginary wanderings through the classic scenes of antiquity assumed in her congenial mind the brightest colours of intellectual beauty; and she could not help thinking that if he were what he appeared, such wanderings, with such a guide, would not be the most unenviable of earthly destinies. The other guests dropped in by ones and twos. Sir Telegraph was agreeably surprised to see Mr. Forester. ‘By the bye,’ said he, ‘have you heard that a general election is to take place immediately?’ ‘I have,’ said Mr. Forester, ‘and was thinking of putting you and your barouche in requisition very shortly.’ ‘As soon as you please,’ said Sir Telegraph. The Honourable Mrs. Pinmoney took Sir Telegraph aside, to make inquiry concerning the new-comers. _The Hon. Mrs. Pinmoney._ Who is that very bright-eyed, wild-looking young man? _Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ That is my old acquaintance and fellow-collegian, Sylvan Forester, now of Redrose Abbey, in this county. _The Hon. Mrs. Pinmoney._ Is he respectable? _Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ He has a good estate, if you mean that. _The Hon. Mrs. Pinmoney._ To be sure I mean that. And who is that tall thin saturnine personage? _Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ I know nothing of him but that his name is Fax, and that he is now on a visit to Mr. Forester at Redrose Abbey.