His neighbour being Mr.
Bradshaw, he conversed with him agreeably, smiling seldom.

He seemed neither depressed nor uneasy; his countenance wore a grave and noble melancholy, now and then illumined with an indescribable ardour.
The Bradshaws had begun to talk of leaving Naples, but this seemed to be the apology for enjoying themselves which is so characteristic of English people.

Even Mrs.Bradshaw found her life from day to day very pleasant, and in consequence never saw her friends at the villa without expressing much uneasiness about affairs at home, and blaming her husband for making so long a stay.

Both of them were now honoured with the special attention of Mr.Marsh.Clifford was never so much in his element as when conversing of art and kindred matters with persons who avowed their deficiencies in that sphere of knowledge, yet were willing to learn; relieved from the fear of criticism, he expanded, he glowed, he dogmatized.

With Mrs.Lessingham he could not be entirely at his ease; her eye was occasionally disturbing to a pretender who did not lack discernment.