Glentworth, an orphan, brought up in a desultory, unhappy manner, and nobly self-consigned at an early age to the drudgery of a counting-house, had hitherto seen little of the world of women, save in the house of Mr. Granard; but, had he dwelt with the noble and the gay from his birth, it is hardly likely he would have found any one so singularly interesting and fascinating as Margarita Riccardini; for the striking and animated beauty of her father was softened and relieved by that peculiar something, half modesty, and half pride, which is the characteristic of English loveliness, and which every Englishman requires as a sine qua non ere he resigns himself to a bondage it is the habit of his nature, or the result of his privileges, to admit reluctantly. He feels this emotion more especially as regards the Spanish or Italian beauty, because of the difference in their religious creeds; he is not equally apprehensive on the account of a Frenchwoman, who is probably only too liberal in her views on the subject.
Poor Glentworth had not the usual fears of his country on this point, for Mr. Granard had not been informed that his sister had renounced the church he loved. Margarita spoke the sweetest English as a mother tongue, and her complexion was (at this time a rare one) of the olive and the rose united; the impression she gave was that of being half English at least, and more entirely, more enchantingly charming, than either England or Italy had ever produced
