And Ella—was she charmed with her mother’s present prospects? Truth compels us to declare she was not; nor did she ever cease expressing to me her lively regret that her mama was so unwise as to prefer the baronet to dear, good, handsome Balzano, who was likewise of higher rank, and also of one of the oldest families of mediæval Italy. But Ella had not, as we know, been made aware of the chain of circumstances which led to such a step on her mother’s part; so she contented herself by adding, as a last consolation, in the only Latin words she knew, “_di gustibus non est disputandem_.” Since, then, we cannot “account for tastes,” still less may we understand the multiform caprices of beauty. This, however, I will say, and I appeal to the lovely of my own sex who have passed the age of thirty, to corroborate my assertion: Is there not some period in the life of each woman, when she would scarcely have thought any one worthy of herself? And is there not, likewise, another period, when, in her isolation, she might have been tempted to marry the first eligible person who asked her? I fear me such is too often the case. I will here mention an incident which occurred _à propos_ to this marriage: One evening, after dinner, Ella complaining of a headache, her mother, as was her wont, made over her a few mesmeric passes, in order to quiet the nerves. The young girl slept the magnetic sleep, as we perceived by the rigidity of the muscles, and other signs understood by the initiated. As Ella slept, I placed in her hand a letter, which had just chanced to arrive from Sir Percy. Instantly she became convulsed; and, crushing the paper in her slender fingers, she flung it suddenly from her, exclaiming— “I will not look at that man; take him out of my sight—he has no heart—no honor.” The _clairvoyante_ trembled violently, drawing her breath with difficulty. We did not dare force her to continue looking upon a disagreeable object; for, by such means, epileptic convulsions have been occasionally induced in an impressible subject, and sometimes even death has been known to supervene. So Evelyn took her hand, as she now tranquilly slept, saying, “Then tell me, sweet one, shall I be happy?” An angelic smile broke over the features of the lovely entranced, as she exclaimed, “You, dearest mother! Oh, yes—by your talents, your superior mind, your beautiful soul—not else,” and she sighed. Evelyn then awoke the young girl, who of course was aware of nothing that had passed during her mesmeric sleep; but her mother mused and wondered, and again I trembled for the future. [Illustration] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER XXVI. +THREE MONTHS OF MARRIED LIFE+