supper brought us on the staircase. _A propos_, or _mal
a propos_', this turn of our conversation, let the reader decide by what
I have already stated; so it was, however, and in a little nook of the
landing I found myself with my fair companion's arm pressed closely to
my side, engaged in a warm controversy on the trite subject of English
coldness of manner. Advocating my country, I deemed that no more fitting
defence could be entered, than by evidencing in myself the utter absence
of the frigidity imputed. Champagne did something for me; Louisa's
bright eyes assisted; but the staircase, the confounded staircase,
crowned all. In fact, the undisguised openness of Miss Bellew's manner,
the fearless simplicity with which she had ventured upon topics a
hardened coquette would not dare to touch upon, led me into the common
error of imputing to flirtation what was only due to the untarnished
freshness of happy girlhood.

Finding my advances well received, I began to feel not a little proud of
my success, and disposed to plume myself upon the charm of my eloquence,
when, as I concluded a high-flown and inflated phrase of sentimental
absurdity, she suddenly turned round, fixed her bright eyes upon me, and
burst out into a fit of laughter.

'There, there! pray don't try that! No one but an Irishman ever succeeds
in blarney. It is our national dish, and can never be seasoned by a
stranger.'

This pull-up, for such it most effectually was, completely unmanned me.
I tried to stammer out an explanation, endeavoured to laugh, coughed,
blundered, and broke down; while, merciless in her triumph, she only
laughed the more, and seemed to enjoy my confusion.

With such a failure hanging over me, I felt happy when we reached the
supper-room; and the crash, din, and confusion about us once more broke
in upon our conversation. It requires far less nerve for the dismounted
jockey, whose gay jacket has been rolled in the mud of a racecourse,
resuming his saddle, to ride in amid the jeers and scoffs of ten
thousand spectators, than for the gallant who has blundered in the full
tide of a flirtation, to recover his lost position, and sustain the
current of his courtship. The sarcasm of our sex is severe enough,
Heaven knows; but no raillery, no ridicule, cuts half so sharp or half
so deep as the bright twinkle of a pretty girl's eye, when, detecting
some exhibition of dramatised passion, some false glitter of pinchbeck
sentiment, she exchang