“So I am! but do not fancy I have not had my share of sorrow, though I am cheerful,—more than cheerful,—and most grateful for my very large share of happiness. But remember I lost a son, my first-born, in the full vigour of youth and intellect; one who was all that a mother’s love or pride could wish or dream. God grant you may be spared that trial, my dearest Lady Montreville!”—her voice faltered as she spoke. “Depend upon it all others are light in comparison. Not that I murmur. Heaven knows that I bow in submission, and acknowledge myself still a person to be envied; but you need not envy me so very much,”—and a tear glistened in her eye. Lucy thought of her boy, and trembled. She confessed to herself she had not sufficiently prized the blessing vouchsafed to her. She thought also that what Milly had said to her was very true,—“Some have one trial, some another.” “You will not find many more so fortunate in their marriage as I am,” added the Duchess. “Lord and Lady John Ashton.” “They have been married four months and a half!” “Well then, Mr. and Mrs. Stanton.” “Yes, they are very happy now. He married her from pique, because my niece Jemima refused him. But it has turned out particularly well, and Mrs. Stanton suits him ten times better than Jemima would have done.” “Oh, I should not like to have been married out of pique! Well then! those dear old souls the Hartleys. It is a pleasure to see them toddling so cozily down the hill together. He is charming, and so fond of her!” “So he is! But the greater part of his youth was spent in devotion to other women. However, her gentleness and patience have their reward at last. He loves her now as she deserves.” “Oh! I cannot emulate her there. I cannot wish to win back the affections of a person I have left off respecting; but indeed I wish to do my duty. I have the most ardent desire to be a virtuous wife, if I cannot be a loving one.” “Well now! to begin, you must constantly and invariably repress vanity. Vanity is the stumbling-block of most women. Vanity has led more women astray, than feeling, or vice, or any thing else. You must give up showing your husband you can charm others.” “Sophy told me that was the way in the world to keep one’s husband! Not that I did it exactly with the view of keeping him, for I had given up that point; but I did wish to show him what he had lost.” “My dear Lady Montreville, you have been playing a dangerous game. By your own confession, then, vanity has been the true mainspring of your actions of late!”