I became momentarily more intimate and at ease; deciding that the unknown and his boatman, Andy Beg, were little better than libellers, when they insinuated aught against the suavity of temper and sociability of my excellent host. Isidora had risen to leave the room, and something in her look or attitude recalled the fascinating picture of the corsair’s mistress to my memory. “How like!” I muttered, loud enough to awake the attention of her father. “I would be sworn that picture on the mantel-piece of the drawing-room was painted for this young lady,--ay, and bating some twenty years, the gallant rover looks your very image, sir.” Never was a more unlucky guess hazarded by a blundering Irishman! Had lightning struck the building, or a grenade dropped hissing through the ceiling, the effect could not have caused so fierce an explosion as that which followed this infelicitous discovery. In a moment a lurid glare flashed underneath the host’s contracted brows; while Isidora, pale as marble, leaned against the buffet for support. Persuaded that I had committed some villanous impertinence, I sprang forward to assist her; but, with extraordinary strength, her father pushed me like a child aside, led his daughter from the room, closed the door, and left me in undisturbed possession, to commune with my own thoughts, and congratulate myself on the brilliant effect that my first essay as a connoisseur in painting had produced. After a short, but to me most painful, interval of suspense, Mr. Hartley returned. His rage had subsided; every trace of its first violence had disappeared; but his features wore an expression of stern rebuke, that made me far more uncomfortable than if personal violence were threatened for my offending. He leaned his back against the sideboard, and after regarding me for a minute with a fixed look, thus commenced:-- “Young man, you have wantonly annoyed those who were anxious to show you kindness; and, by a most unhappy and impertinent allusion to what concerned _you_ nothing, you have in _me_ roused feelings, which I wish suppressed for ever, and recalled to my daughter’s memory an event that can only bring with it painful recollections.” I listened patiently thus far; but, unable to restrain my feelings, interrupted the expostulation, while my look and manner evinced that my contrition was sincere. “By Heaven, Mr. Hartley, my offence was wholly unintentional! While waiting for you in the drawing-room, by mere accident I noticed this unlucky picture. Had I fancied that a secret connexion existed between that painting and any event of your past life, I should have scorned to cast an eye upon it, as much as I would to pry into yonder open letter that lies upon the mantel-piece. I only saw in it, what I considered a beautiful creation of the fancy; some imaginary scene--”