“If you are going to ask me to be philanthropic, I warn you at once that it is useless,” exclaimed the lady, with a little cry of alarm. “I have not the elements of the philanthropist. I do not care the least in the world for woman’s rights; and if I had the privilege of an electress to-morrow, I should--what do you call it?--plump unblushingly for the man who could offer me a new orchid. I do not care about female printers or female doctors. I think it very sad that poor seamstresses should work in stuffy rooms until they fade and die; but I can only pity them, and send money to the newspapers for them, or for their survivors. I have not strength of mind enough to be of any practical use to them.” Mr. Desmond sighed. He saw no remedy for the weariness of spirit from which Mrs. Jerningham suffered. Did not Madame de Maintenon complain of a like weariness when she was the envied of all French men and women, thereby drawing upon herself a trenchant and somewhat impious remark from her brother D’Aubigné? She was happier, perhaps, in the old days, before Scarron pitied and married her--the days in which she did or did not share the chamber of Ninon de l’Enclos. “I do not ask you to take up the human race,” said Mr. Desmond, after a pause; “but I think your life is too--pardon me if I say egotistical. If you had more friends--I don’t mean visitors; you have plenty of them, but intimate acquaintance--intimate enough to fly to you in their perplexities, to consult you in their social arrangements, and to--” “They would only bore me.” “Perhaps; but they would occupy you, they would take you out of yourself; and even when they were dullest and most obnoxious, they would give a keener zest to your hours of solitude. Depend upon it, one must consent to be bored now and then, in order to appreciate the rapture of not being bored. I am sure, Emily, you would be happier if you took a little more interest in the affairs of your neighbours, or if you had more people dependent on your kindness.” “You may be right,” returned the lady, listlessly; “but I do not care for my neighbours. I cannot bring myself to sympathize with their serio-comic woes about recalcitrant butlers and flaunting housemaids. Nor have I any dependents whom my kindness could benefit. My father and I were the only poor members of the family, and there is no one who would care to profit by my prosperity.”