Signora Rivolta, who was a woman of good discernment, and somewhat proud of that discernment, fancied that Lord Trimmerstone was quite an altered man, and that the character in which he had hitherto appeared was not his real character, but was merely a piece of that apery, by which clumsy ones make fools of themselves in endeavouring to become fashionable or distinguished. Under this impression, the Signora paid very especial attention to his lordship; and with a view of confirming and establishing him in good resolutions and good principles, very frequently directed her conversation to the subject of religion, using however very general language, lest the old gentleman her father should entertain a suspicion that there was any design of making a convert to the faith of Rome: for Mr. Martindale had dreadful notions of the Roman Catholic faith, though he did not exactly know what it was. He needed not, however, have given himself much uneasiness about the matter; for when people of rank become religious, it is almost, if not quite always, according to the religion of the state. What effect conversation of this nature produced on his lordship’s mind must be narrated hereafter. We must now pay our attention elsewhere. CHAPTER VI. “There are that love the shades of life, And shun the splendid walks of fame.” LANGHORNE. Horatio Markham has been but seldom before our readers during the progress of our narrative; but when he has been introduced, it has been very apparent that he has been somewhat of a favorite with us. When a young barrister attends closely and seriously to business; and when, in addition to his rising reputation, which promises at once profit and honor, he enjoys the patronage of a nobleman of exalted rank and commanding influence; when the young man has a motive to industry in seeing and partly enjoying the fruits of professional diligence, his adventures must of necessity be very few, and the tenor of his life must be very monotonous. He may indeed, as Markham very probably did, visit many respectable families; may slip quietly into many an evening party, and as quietly slip out again. He may sit still, or walk about, and say little to any body present at these parties; for his mind may be otherwise engaged; his eyes may be dazzled with many a beauty, and may twinkle for an hour or two, annoyed by excess of artificial light; and he may go home and dream about the Arabian Nights’ Entertainments, and the Statutes at Large, and be very glad of a quiet cup of coffee the next morning. He may perhaps think now and then that it would be very desirable that he should have a house at the west end of the town with three drawing-rooms; and that he should have an income, allowing him to spend four or five hundred pounds in an evening to entertain four or five hundred people who would never thank him for his trouble; and that he