"What--where--who's she--where is she gone?" exclaimed the Earl, hurrying to have a sight. "Wait a minute; she'll be back again, I'll be bound--talk of beauties--I did see a stunner." "Where? which window?" said the Earl, who dearly loved to see a pretty face. "There, at that window--the one with the red curtains--get your glass quick, she'll be back in a minute--make haste, here she comes--oh, Gad!" In a moment the Earl was back, too, with an opera glass, through which he gazed at a stylish girl who stood at the opposite window, apparently unconscious that she was an object of such attention. She was about the average height--slightly inclined to embonpoint, with a full and beautiful bust. She was dressed in black silk, which, drawn tightly over her breast, showed off her figure to perfection. Her hair, black as the raven's wing, and platted in two broad bands, was drawn back behind her small, prettily-shaped ears, from which dropped sparkling pendants, and tied by a scarlet ribbon which contrasted well with the ebon locks it bound;--two tresses were suffered to escape this bandage, and waved in a _neglige_ manner over her bosom. Large lustrous eyes, fringed by long, silken lashes, and the damask hue that tinted her olive cheek betrayed the child of sunnier climes than England. Her lips had a slight pout and saucy expression, and in her hand she fluttered a fan with all the grace of an Andalusian belle. "Let's have a look, Wentworth--you are monopolizing the glass; confound it! there, she is gone, and I have not had 'ane keek' as old Andrew would say,--hard lines, by Jove!" "She is evidently Spanish," said the Earl, regardless of the Captain's remark. "I know that," said he. "How! you seem to know more of her than you would make believe?" "Shot if I know a bit more than you do," replied the Captain, seeing his error, "any fool could see she was Spanish--she's jolly pretty, whatever she is. Egad, what eyes! I could have lit my pipe at them! Now to my mind she is a far jollier girl than even your inamorata, Ellen Ravensworth--so much passion in her eyes! 'Oh, never talk again to me of northern climes and British ladies.'" "I hope you don't mean to compare her with Miss Ravensworth, a high born Scotch lady? Compare Ellen with a girl like that, a mere fancy girl, I'll stake high." "Blowed if I care whether she be a fancy girl, or a fancy anything else; she has taken _my fancy_ I know, and I shall think you an uncommon fool if you don't look after her." "I shall certainly make inquiries who and what she is. Pierre, my valet, will find out everything--he is a clever ferret." "Egad, you're right there," answered the Captain, laughing in his sleeve at the bait taking so well. "I know Wentworth's weak point," he muttered to himself, and then said aloud, "And now, as she doesn't seem inclined to vouchsafe us another glance--what is the order of the day? Confound it! there comes that vile snow on again!"