“No, not at all, I promise you. I am as perfectly cool as you are. You do not know Mrs. Germaine as well as I do.” “But I know that she is much to be pitied, if her husband has a worse opinion of her than any body else expresses.” “That is precisely because I am her husband, and know her better than other people do. Will not you give me leave to be the best judge in what relates to my own wife? I never, indeed, expected to hear you, of all people upon earth, cousin William, undertake her defence. I think I remember that she was no great favourite of yours before I married, and you dissuaded me as much as possible from the match: yet now you are quite become her advocate, and take her part to my face against me.” “It is not taking her part against you, my dear Charles,” replied his cousin, “to endeavour to make you better satisfied with your wife. I am not so obstinate in self-opinion as to wish, at the expense of your domestic happiness, to prove that I was right in dissuading you from the match; on the contrary, I would do all in my power to make the best of it; and so should you.” “Ah, cousin William, it is easy for you to talk of making the best of a bad match; you who are married to one of the best tempered women alive! I wish you were to live with Mrs. Germaine for one month.” William smiled, as much as to say, “I cannot join in that wish.” “Besides,” continued Charles, “if I were to open my whole heart to you, you would pity me on another account. My wife is not my only plague: my mistress is almost as great a torment as my wife.” “What! this mistress of whom you are so fond?” “Ay! there is the curse! I cannot help being fond of her: and that she knows, and plays me off as she pleases. But I believe the little jilt loves me all the time: because she has offers enough, and from men of the first fashion, if she would leave me. She is certainly a good girl; but then so passionate!” “I thought you told me she was good-humoured,” interrupted his cousin. “Well, so she is, at times, the best humoured creature in nature; and then she is charming: but when she falls into a passion, she is a little fury! absolutely a little devil! There is nothing she would not do. Now, do you know, all this terrible business, this execution against me, is her doing?” “A singular proof of love!” said Mr. William Darford. “Oh, the fool loves me, notwithstanding; I must do her that justice: but she is quite a child. I put her into a passion, by going down to Leicestershire when she wanted me to stay with her in town. She told me she would be revenged; but I could not believe she would go such lengths. She gave a note of mine, for two hundred guineas, to her uncle; and he got a writ. Now she is in despair about it; I saw her two hours ago all in tears, and tearing her hair, because her uncle won’t consent to withdraw the execution. I am sure she is really and truly sorry; and would give her eyes to get me out of this scrape.”