It is thus we too often pass harsh and hasty judgment on those whose grave or suffering countenances chance to cross us in the paths of pleasure, checking, for a minute, by their sad and therefore unwelcome presence, our feeling of enjoyment, in reminding us, most disagreeably, of its transient nature. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER II. Poured in soft dalliance at a lady’s feet, In fondest rapture he appeared to lie.... Their words she heard not—words had ne’er exprest What well her sickening fancy could supply— All that their silent eloquence confest As breathed the sigh of fire from each impassioned breast. While thus she gazed, her quivering lips turn pale, Contending passions rage within her breast, Nor ever had she known such bitter bale, Or felt by such fierce agony opprest. PSYCHE. EMMELINE having a general invitation to the house of Lady Mowbray—one of her new acquaintance, who was _at-home_ on a stated day every week; and never having yet been to any of her _soirées_, she one evening exerted herself to pay her a visit. There were not many people assembled, owing to the _many things to be done_, a phrase in the fashionable slang of London, expressive of that delightful prospect of busy pleasure, which consists in passing the greatest part of the night in a carriage, fighting in and out of a dozen houses, the owners of which are, perhaps, never seen by their visitors. Among the few whom these many pleasures had that evening spared to Lady Mowbray, Emmeline found none with whom she was much acquainted; so that after having remained what she thought a sufficient time, hearing a loud knock, announcing a fresh reinforcement of company, and thinking she had performed her duty of civility, she meditated her departure, when the door opened, and Lady Florence Mostyn was announced. At that name, Emmeline started so violently, that her neighbour turned round to see what had alarmed her; but could neither perceive any cause for her agitation, nor receive any answer to her enquires, whether she was well, for Emmeline’s eyes, thoughts, and every sense, were fixed on her rival.