Everybody who is worse than ourselves is too bad; everybody, whose vices differ from ours, is too bad. Lord Spoonbill was selfish, sensual, and unprincipled; but he endeavoured to conceal his character, and, from attempting to deceive others, had come at last to deceive himself; and he really did flatter himself that there was some good in his character, and some good feelings in his heart. But Erpingham, on the other hand, did not play the hypocrite either to himself or to others; he was definite and decided, and he took to himself some little credit for the unblushing honesty of his conduct and character. He smiled contemptuously at the meanness and littleness of his friend Spoonbill's vices; but this meanness was essential to the very existence of his vices, he would have been frightened at himself had he seen his own moral features without a mask. There was this difference in the character of these two friends, that had Erpingham had the same object in view as Lord Spoonbill, he would have pursued it unblushingly, unhesitatingly, and without remorse. He would have intercepted letters, but he would not have shuddered when he had them in his possession; nor would he have hesitated to open them, if that would have forwarded his schemes. There would have been no demur or doubt, but everything would have been rendered subservient to his villanous purposes. But Lord Spoonbill was not so straitforward in his roguery, he was a more pusillanimous profligate. The difference between the two is, that Erpingham was an object of indignation, and Lord Spoonbill of contempt. Seeing therefore how matters now stood, the Right Honorable Lord Spoonbill thought that he might as well pursue his first object with regard to Penelope, and not, at least for the present, think or say a word concerning marriage. And it was a great consolation to him in the course of his meditations to think how much more unprincipled Erpingham was than he. From a long, and to the Epicurean a wearying discussion, Lord Spoonbill returned to his home; and on his return he found that the Countess was quite angry, and that her patience was exhausted in waiting for Penelope's return. The young lady had indeed mentioned the subject to her father, but he did not think any further acknowledgments necessary than he had already personally made to the heir of the house of Smatterton. Nor could Mr Primrose persuade himself that any very high tribute of gratitude was due for that species of patronage which the Countess of Smatterton had proposed for his daughter. It was his feeling, that her ladyship had in view her own gratification quite as much as the welfare of Penelope.