heir own masters, and not trouble themselves about him any more than
if they were at Pisa, he shook them both by the hand, and bade them
good-night.

It must be confessed that the acquaintance of Lord Montfort had afforded
consolation to Henrietta Temple. It was impossible to be insensible to
the sympathy and solicitude of one so highly gifted and so very amiable.
Nor should it be denied that this homage, from one of his distinguished
rank, was entirely without its charm. To find ourselves, when deceived
and deserted, unexpectedly an object of regard and consideration,
will bring balm to most bosoms; but to attract in such a situation
the friendship of an individual whose deferential notice under any
circumstances must be flattering, and to be admired by one whom all
admire, these are accidents of fortune which few could venture to
despise. And Henrietta had now few opportunities to brood over the past;
a stream of beautiful and sublime objects passed unceasingly before
her vision. Her lively and refined taste, and her highly cultured mind,
could not refrain from responding to these glorious spectacles. She saw
before her all that she had long read of, all that she had long mused
over. Her mind became each day more serene and harmonious as she gazed
on these ideal creations, and dwelt on their beautiful repose. Her
companion, too, exerted every art to prevent these amusements from
degenerating into fatiguing expeditions. The Vatican was open to Lord
Montfort when it was open to none others. Short visits, but numerous
ones, was his system. Sometimes they entered merely to see a statue or
a picture they were reading or conversing about the preceding eve; and
then they repaired to some modern studio, where their entrance always
made the sculptor's eyes sparkle. At dinner there was always some
distinguished guest whom Henrietta wished to see; and as she thoroughly
understood the language, and spoke it with fluency and grace, she was
tempted to enter into conversations, where all seemed delighted that she
played her part. Sometimes, indeed, Henrietta would fly to her chamber
to sigh, but suddenly the palace resounded with tones of the finest
harmony, or the human voice, with its most felicitous skill, stole upon
her from the distant galleries. Although Lord Montfort was not himself a
musician, and his voice could not pour forth those fatal sounds that
had ravished her soul from the lips of Ferdinand Armine, he was well
acqua