her features varying with each motive of the
music, her eyes at one instant half closed in dreamy languor, and at the
next flashing in all the brilliancy of conscious beauty. As for Roland,
forgetting, as well he might, all his functions as teacher, he
moved with the enthusiastic spirit of the dance,--his rapturous gaze
displaying the admiration that fettered him; and when at last, as it
were, yielding to long-proved devotion, she gave her hand, it needed
the explanation of its being a Mexican fashion to excuse the ardor with
which he pressed it to his lips.

Mrs. Kennyfeck's applause, however, was none the less warm; and if
any of the company disapproved, they prudently said nothing,--even Mr.
Softly, who only evidenced his feeling by a somewhat hasty resumption
of the "Morning Post," while the elder sister, rising from the piano,
whispered, as she passed her sister, "Bad jockey-ship, Livy, dear, to
make fast running so early."

"And that is the--What d'ye call it, Mr. Cashel?" said Mrs. Kennyfeck.

"The manolo, madam. It is of Italian origin, rather than
Spanish,--Calabrian, I fancy; but, in Mexico, it has become national,
and well suits the changeful temper of our Spanish belles, and the style
of their light and floating costume."

"Yes, I suspect it has a better effect with short drapery than with the
sweeping folds of our less picturesque dress," said Miss Kennyfeck,
who, for reasons we must not inquire, took a pleasure in qualifying her
approval.

"I never saw it appear more graceful," said Cashel, with a blunt
abruptness far more flattering than a studied compliment.

Olivia blushed; Mrs. Kennyfeck looked happy, and the elder sister
bit her lips, and threw up her eyebrows, with an expression we cannot
attempt to render in words.

"May I not have the honor of introducing you to the manolo?" said
Cashel, presenting himself before her with a deep bow.

"Thank you, I prefer being a spectator; besides, we could have no
music,--my sister does not play."

Olivia blushed; and, in her hasty look, there was an expression of
gently conveyed reproach, as though to say, "This is unfair."

"Do you like music, Mr. Cashel?" continued Miss Kennyfeck, who saw the
slight cloud of disappointment that crossed Roland's features. "Oh, I 'm
certain you do, and I know you sing!"

"Yes," said Cashel, carelessly, "as every one sings in that merry land
I come from; but I fear the wild carol-lings of a ranchero would scarce
fin