“That mountain yonder is not seen from the bay,” said Sir Archy, thoughtfully. “It can scarcely be that.” “I think we must ask Miss O'Donoghue for the explanation,” said Fred Travers. “She is the only one here not surprized at its appearance.” “Miss O'Donoghue is one of those who, you assert, are to be taught, and, therefore, unable to teach others,” said she, in a low whisper, only audible to Frederick, who stood beside her, and he almost started at the strange meaning the words seemed to convey. CHAPTER XXIV. A WALK BY MOONLIGHT The visit alluded to in the last chapter formed the first step to an acquaintance which speedily ripened into intimacy. Seldom a day passed without some interchange of civilities; and as they progressed in knowledge of each other, they advanced in esteem, so that, ere long, they learned to regard themselves as members of a single family. The conventional usages of society are stronger barriers against friendship than the world deems them. The life of cities supplies a coinage of social intercourse which but very imperfectly represents the value of true feeling; while in remoter and less cultivated regions, men are satisfied to disencumber themselves of this false currency, and deal frankly and openly with each other. How little now did Sir Marmaduke remember of all Sir Archy's peculiarities of manner and expression! how seldom did Sybella think Kate's opinions wild and eccentric! and how difficult would it have been to convince the fastidious Guardsman, that the society of St. James's possessed any superiority in tone or elegance over the evenings at “the Lodge.” The real elements of mutual liking were present here: the discrepancy of character and taste--the great differences of age, and habit of thought--yet moulded into one common frame of esteem from the very appreciation of qualities in others, in which each felt himself deficient. If Kate admired the simple but high-minded English girl, whose thoughts were rarely faulty, save when attributing to others higher and purer motives than the world abounds in, Sybella looked up with enthusiastic delight to the glittering talents of her Irish friend--the warm and generous glow of her imagination--the brilliant flashes of her wit--the ready eloquence of her tongue, and, perhaps, not least of all, the intrepid fearlessness of her nature, inspired her with sentiments of almost awe, which seemed to deepen, and not diminish her affection for Kate O'Donoghue.