But being thus eased in my mind about the young man, the kindness I had instinctively felt to him came strong upon me. I remembered the look he had, quite affectionately, the nice, handsome, smiling, young fellow! Who could it be that he was like? Somebody whom I remembered dimly through the old ages; and his voice, too? His voice made a thrill of strange wondering recollections run through me. Certainly that voice had once possessed some power or influence over my mind. I decided he would not find his Countess in Manchester. Fancy the ridiculous notion! A Countess in Manchester! No. She must belong about Cheshire, somewhere; and I must have known her in my youth. So I read his note twice over, with a good deal of interest, and then naturally, as we had talked of him together so often, handed it to Sara. Now I did not in the least mean to watch Sara while she read it, but, having my eyes unconsciously upon her face at the moment, was startled, I acknowledge, by seeing her suddenly flush up, and cast a startled glance at me, as if the child expected that something more than usual was to be in the note. Who could tell what romantic fancies might be in her head? It is quite possible her imagination had been attracted by the stranger, and perhaps if she had heard that Mr. Luigi had fallen romantically in love with her, Sara would have been less surprised and much less shocked than I should. However, there was no such matter, but only a sensible, though, I must confess, rather odd and Frenchified note. After the first glance she read it over very calmly and carefully, then laid it down, with something that looked wonderfully like a little shade of pique, and cried out in her sharpest tone: “Oh, godmamma, how sensible!--to be sure to be an Italian, and young, he must be a perfect miracle of a Luigi. Actually, because there are countrymen of his in Manchester--music teachers and Italian masters, of course--to give up an appointment with a lady, and at such a house as the Park! I think he must be quite the most sensible and pretty-behaved of young men.” “I think he shows a great deal of sense,” said I, not altogether pleased with the child’s tone; “but if you will excuse me saying so, Sara, I think it is just a little vulgar of you to say ‘at such a house as the Park.’” Sarah flushed up redder and redder. I quite thought we were to have a quarrel again. “Oh, of course, godmamma, if I had been speaking of a--of an English gentleman; but you know,” said the wicked little creature, looking boldly in my face, “you set him down at once, whenever you heard of him, as an adventurer,--a count, you know,--one of the fellows that came sneaking into people’s houses and wanted to marry people’s daughters. I am only repeating what you said, godmamma. It was not I that said it. And now you perceive this good respectable young man does not attempt anything of the kind.”