What though on classic ground we tread, No! the sick soul, that wounded flies Some mossy stone, some torrent rude, Or some wild roebuck's fern-clad glen. Ere the song was ended, Lord Lindore had sauntered away to the billiard-room, singing, "O Jove Omnipotente!" and seemingly quite unconscious that any attentions were due from him in return. But there, even Adelaide's charms failed to attract, in spite of the variety of graceful movements practised before him - the beauty of the extended arm, the majestic step, and the exclamations of the enchanting voice. Lord Lindore kept his station by the fire, in a musing attitude, from which he was only roused occasionally by the caresses of his dog. At supper, it was still worse. He placed himself by Mary, and when he spoke, it was only of Scotland. “Well—what do you think of Lindore?" demanded Lady Emily of her aunt and cousins, as they were about to separate for the night. "Is he not divine? "Perfectly so!" replied Lady Juliana, with all the self-importance of a fool. I assure you, I think very highly of him. He is a vastly charming, clever young man perfectly beautiful, and excessively amiable; and his attention to his dog is quite delightful--it is so uncommon to see men at all kind to their dogs. I assure you, I have known many who were absolutely cruel to them-beat them, and starved them, and did a thousand shocking things; and Pray, Adelaide, what is your opinion of my brother?" "Oh! I-I-have no doubt he is extremely amiable," replied Adelaide, with a gentle yawn. "As mamma says, his attentions to his dog prove it." "And you, Mary, are your remarks to be equally judicious and polite? Mary, in all the sincerity of her heart, said, she thought him by much the handsomest and most elegant-looking man she had ever seen. And there she stopped. "Yes; I know all that. But however, no matter-I only wish he may have sense enough to fall in love with you, Mary. How happy I should be to see you Lady Lindore!-En attendant-you must take care of your heart; for I hear he is un peu volage-and, moreover, that he admires none but les dames Mariées. As for Adelaide, there is no fear of her: she will never cast such a pearl away upon one who is merely, no doubt, extremely amiable," retorting Adelaide's ironical tone. "Then you may feel equally secure upon my account," said Mary, "as I assure you I am in still less danger of losing mine, after the warning you have given." This off-hand sketch of her brother's character, which Lady Emily had thoughtlessly given, produced the most opposite effects on the minds of the sisters. With Adelaide, it increased his consequence, and enhanced his value. It would be no vulgar conquest to fix and reform one who was notorious for his inconstancy and libertine principles; and, from that moment, she resolved to use all the influence of her charms to captivate and secure the heart of her cousin. In Mary's well-regulated mind other feelings arose. Although she was not one of the outrageously virtuous, who storm and rail at the very mention of vice, and deem it contamination to hold any intercourse with the vicious, she yet possessed proper ideas of the distinction to be drawn; and the hope of finding a friend and brother in her cousin, now gave way to the feeling, that in future she could only consider him as a mere common acquaintance. CHAPTER XLIII "On sera ridicule et je n'oserai rire!"-Boileau, IN N honour of her brother's return, Lady Emily resolved to celebrate it with a ball; and always prompt in following up her plans, she fell to work immediately with her visiting list. Certainly," said she, as she scanned it over, "there never was any family so afflicted in their acquaintances as we are. At least one-half of the names here belong to the most insufferable people on the face of the earth. The Claremonts, and the Edgefields, and the Bouveries, and the Sedleys, and a few more, are very well; but can anything in human form be more insupportable than the rest—— for instance, that wretch Lady Placid?" 1 "Does her merit lie only in her name, then?" asked Mary. "You shall judge for yourself when I have given you a slight sketch of her character. Lady Placid, in the opinion of all sensible persons in general, and myself in particular, is a vain, weak, conceited, vulgar egotist. In her own eyes she is a clever, well-informed, elegant, amiable, woman; 1 [Humour is after all a thing of fashion. To call and label the characters as Mrs. MacFuss, Mrs. Bluemits, Miss MacPry, Lady Placid, Mrs. Wiseacre, and so on, seems to us so extremely obvious as to be very poor fun, and yet, at the time, the dignified Quarterly Review condescended to praise the name of Mrs. Downe Wright.] and though I have spared no pains to let her know how detestable I think her, it is all in vain; she remains as firmly entrenched in her own good opinion as folly and conceit can make her, and I have the despair of seeing all my buffetings fall blunted to the ground. She reminds me of some odious fairy or genie I have read of, who possessed such a power in their person that every hostile weapon levelled against them was immediately turned into some agreeable present-stones became balls of silk, arrows flowers, swords feathers, etc. Even so it is with Lady Placid. The grossest insult that could be offered she would construe into an elegant compliment; the very crimes of others she seems to consider as so much incense offered up at the shrine of her own immaculate virtue. I'm certain she thinks she deserves to be canonized for having kept out of Doctors' Commons. Never is any affair of that sort alluded to that she does not cast such a triumphant look towards her husband, as much as to say, Here am I, the paragon of faithful wives and virtuous matrons.' Were I in his place, I should certainly throw a plate at her head. And here you may take this passing remark, how much more odious people are who have radical faults than those who commit, I do not say positive crimes, but occasional weaknesses. Even a noble nature may fall into a great error; but what is that to the ever-enduring pride, envy, malice, and conceit of a little mind? Yes; I would, at any time, rather be the fallen, as the one to exult over the fall of another. Then as a mother she is, if possible, still more meritorious a woman. This is the way she talks, 'A woman has nobly performed her part to her country, and for posterity, when she |