FATHOM JUSTIFIES THE PROVERB, "WHAT'S BRED IN THE BONE WILL NEVER COME
OUT OF THE FLESH."


Some circumstances of this conversation made a deep impression upon the
mind of our adventurer, who nevertheless concealed his emotions from the
knowledge of his friend, and was next day introduced to that hidden
treasure of which Renaldo had spoken with such rapture and adoration. It
was not without reason he had expatiated upon the personal attractions of
this young lady, whom, for the present, we shall call Monimia, a name
that implies her orphan situation. When she entered the room, even
Fathom, whose eyes had been sated with beauty, was struck dumb with
admiration, and could scarce recollect himself so far as to perform the
ceremony of his introduction.

She seemed to be about the age of eighteen. Her stature was tall; her
motion graceful. A knot of artificial flowers restrained the luxuriancy
of her fine black hair, that flowed in shining ringlets adown her snowy
neck. The contour of her face was oval; her forehead remarkably high;
her complexion clean and delicate, though not florid; and her eyes were
so piercing, as to strike the soul of every beholder. Yet, upon this
occasion, one half of their vivacity was eclipsed by a languishing air of
melancholy concern; which, while it in a manner sheathed the edge of her
beauty, added a most engaging sweetness to her looks. In short, every
feature was elegantly perfect; and the harmony of the whole ravishing and
delightful.

It was easy to perceive the mutual sentiments of the two lovers at
meeting, by the pleasure that sensibly diffused itself in the