not, by any
means, desire to engross the conversation--I repeat it, there is a
mistake about this man."

"I think there is," said Lady Binks, in a tone which implied something
more than mere assent to Lady Penelope's proposition.

"I doubt if he is an artist at all," said the Lady Penelope; "or if he
is, he must be doing things for some Magazine, or Encyclopedia, or some
such matter."

"_I_ doubt, too, if he be a professional artist," said Lady Binks. "If
so, he is of the very highest class, for I have seldom seen a
better-bred man."

"There are very well-bred artists," said Lady Penelope. "It is the
profession of a gentleman."

"Certainly," answered Lady Binks; "but the poorer class have often to
struggle with poverty and dependence. In general society, they are like
commercial people in presence of their customers; and that is a
difficult part to sustain. And so you see them of all sorts--shy and
reserved, when they are conscious of merit--petulant and whimsical, by
way of showing their independence--intrusive, in order to appear
easy--and sometimes obsequious and fawning, when they chance to be of a
mean spirit. But you seldom see them quite at their ease, and therefore
I hold this Mr. Tyrrel to be either an artist of the first class, raised
completely above the necessity and degradation of patronage, or else to
be no professional artist at all."

Lady Penelope looked at Lady Binks with much such a regard as Balaam may
have cast upon his ass, when he discovered the animal's capacity for
holding an argument with him. She muttered to herself--

_"Mon ane parle, et meme il parle bien!"_

But, declining the altercation which Lady Binks seemed disposed to enter
into, she replied, with good-humour, "Well, dearest Rachel, we will not
pull caps about this man--nay, I think your good opinion of him gives
him new value in my eyes. That is always the way with us, my good
friend! We may confess it, when there are none of these conceited male
wretches among us. We will know what he really is--he shall not wear
fern-seed, and walk among us invisible thus--what say you, Maria?"

"Indeed, I say, dear Lady Penelope," answered Miss Digges, whose ready
chatter we have already introduced to the reader, "he is a very handsome
man, though his nose is too big, and his mouth too wide--but his teeth
are like pearl--and he has such eyes!--especially when your ladyship
spoke to him. I don't think you looked at his eyes--they ar