The history of the house was simply, that “she hated town and loved the country; that she loved the sea better than the land, and loved society of her own selection better than society forced upon her.—­On the sea-shore she found all that she liked, and escaped all that she hated.  She therefore lived on the sea-shore.—­She had persuaded her father to build that house, and they had furnished it according to their own recollections, and even their own whims.—­Caprice was liberty, and liberty was essential to the enjoyment of every thing.  Thus, she loved caprice, and laid herself open to the charge of being fantastic with those who did not understand her.”

In this sportive way she ran on, saying all kinds of lively nothings; while we drank our coffee out of Saxon porcelain which would have shone on the table of a crowned head.

The windows were thrown open, and we sat enjoying the noblest of all scenes, a glorious sunset, to full advantage.  The fragrance of the garden stole in, a “steam of rich distilled perfumes;” the son of the birds, in those faint and interrupted notes which come with such sweetness in the parting day; the distant hum of the village, and the low solemn sound of the waves subsiding on the beach, made a harmony of their own, perhaps more soothing and subduing than the most refined touches of human skill.  We wanted nothing but an Italian moon to realize the loveliness of the scene in Belmont.

    “The moon shines bright.  In such a night as this,
    When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees,
    And they did make no noise—­in such a night
    Medea gather’d the enchanted herbs
    That did renew old Jason.”

As I glanced on the little, superbly dressed Jewess, sitting between her father and myself, I thought of the possibilities to come.

                    ——­“In such a night
    Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew,
    And, with an unthrift love, did run from Venice.”

We soon after had the moon herself, rising broad and bright from the ocean; and all was romance, until a party were seen coming up the avenue, laughing and talking very sportively.

“I beg a thousand apologies; but I had forgotten to mention that we have a small dance this evening, chiefly foreign, and, as you may perceive, they keep early hours,” said Jessica, rising to receive them.

“They are French, and emigrants,” added Mordecai.  “All is over with them and theirs in France, and they have made the best of their way to England, therein acting more wisely than those who have stayed behind.  I know France well; the ‘tigre-singe,’ as their countryman described them.  These unfortunates have been consigned to me by my correspondents, like so many bales of silks, or barrels of Medoc.  But here they come.”