Before Miss Seymour could answer, Lady Mandeville, who was present, whispered something to Glenarvon; and he laughed. Sophia asked eagerly what she was saying. “It is a secret,” said Glenarvon significantly. “How happy must Lady Mandeville be at this moment!” said Lady Augusta, “for every one knows that the greatest enjoyment the human mind can feel, is when we are in the act of betraying a secret confided to us by a friend, or informing an enemy of something upon which the life and safety of another depends.” “Come,” said Lady Mandeville, “you are very severe; but I was only urging Lord Glenarvon to listen to Miss Seymour’s admonitions in a less public circle. Miss Monmouth may be displeased if she hears of all this whispering.” So saying, she took Glenarvon’s arm, and they walked out of the room together. “After all, he is a glorious creature,” said Lady Trelawney. “I wish I had a glorious creature to walk with me this morning,” said Lady Augusta with a sneer; “but how can I hope for support, when Calantha, who had once thousands to defend her, and whom I left the gayest where all were gay, is now dying alone, upbraided, despised, and deserted. Where are her friends?” “She fell by her own fault entirely,” said Lord Trelawney. “Her life has been one course of absurdity. A crime here and there are nothing, I well know,” said Lady Augusta; “but imprudence and folly, who can pardon?” “She has a kind heart,” said Frances. “Kind enough to some,” said her lord; “but talk not of her, for I feel indignant at her very name.” “There is nothing excites our indignation so strongly,” said Lady Augusta, “as misfortune. Whilst our friends are healthy, rich, happy, and, above all, well dressed and gaily attended, they are delightful, adorable. After all, your sensible judicious people on the long run are the best: they keep a good eye to their own interest; and these flighty ones are sure to get into scrapes. When they do, we flatterers have an awkward part to play: we must either turn short about, as is the case now, or stand up in a bad cause, for which none of us have heart or spirit.” “There is no excuse for Calantha,” said Miss Seymour. “God forbid I should look for one,” said Lady Augusta. “I am like a deer, and ever fly with the herd: there is no excuse, Miss Seymour, ever, for those who are wounded and bleeding and trodden upon. I could tell you—but here come these glorious creatures! Are you aware, that when Lady Avondale sent a few days since for her lover’s portrait, and a lock of his hair, Lady Mandeville yesterday in an envelope enclosed a braid of her own. _C’est piquant cela: j’admire!_” “How illnatured the world is!” said Miss Monmouth, who had heard the latter part of this discourse. “Not illnatured or wicked, my dear,” said Lady Augusta; “only weak, cowardly and inordinately stupid.” “With what self-satisfaction every one triumphs at the fall of those whose talents or situation raise them a little into observation!” said Miss Monmouth.