"What companion? " Eloise interrupted him, inquiringly.
"Why," replied he, "a friend of mine, who lives at my cottage; he is an Irishman, and so very moral, and so averse to every species of gaieté de cœur, that you need be under no apprehensions. In short, he is a love-sick swain, without ever having found what he calls a congenial female. He wanders about, writes poetry, and, in short, is much too sentimental to occasion you any alarm on that account. And, I assure you," added he, assuming a more serious tone, "although I may not be quite so far gone in romance, yet I have feelings of honour and humanity which teach me to respect your sorrows as my own."
"Indeed, indeed I believe you, generous stranger; nor do I think that you could have a friend whose principles are dishonourable."
Whilst yet she spoke, the chaise stopped, and Mountfort, springing from it, handed Eloise into his habitation. It was neatly fitted up in the English taste.
"Fitzeustace," said Mountfort to his friend, "allow me to introduce you to Madame Eloise de ." Eloise blushed, as did Fitzeustace.
"Come," said Fitzeustace, to conquer mauvaise honte, "supper is ready, and the lady doubtlessly fatigued."
Fitzeustace was finely formed, yet there was a languor which pervaded even his whole figure; his eyes were dark
