to the second table at the fermier general’s, expressed more indignation than Almeria did, at the insolence of this banker’s lady. She could think and speak of nothing else, all the time she was going home in the evening to Elmour Grove. Ellen, who had more philosophy than our heroine, did not sympathize in the violence of her indignation: on the contrary, she was surprised that Almeria could feel so much hurt by the slights of a woman, for whom she had neither esteem nor affection, and with whom she was indeed scarcely acquainted. “But does not her conduct excite your indignation?” said Miss Turnbull. “No: it rather deserves my contempt. If a friend--if you, for instance, had treated me in such a manner, it would have provoked my anger, I dare say.” “I! Oh, how impossible!” cried Almeria. “Such insufferable pride! Such downright rudeness!--She was tolerably civil to you, but me she never noticed: and this sudden change, it seems, Frederick, arises from her doubts of my fortune.--Is not such meanness really astonishing?” “It would be astonishing, perhaps,” replied Frederick, “if we did not see similar instances every day.--Lady Stock, you know, is nothing but a mere woman of the world.” “I hate mere women of the world,” cried Almeria. Ellen observed, that it was not worth while to hate, it was sufficient to avoid them.--Almeria grew warmer in her abhorrence; and Ellen at last expressed, half in jest, half in earnest, some fear, that if Miss Turnbull felt with such exquisite sensibility the neglect of persons of fashion, she might in a different situation be ambitious, or vain of their favour. Almeria was offended, and was very near quarrelling with her friend for harbouring such a mean opinion of her character. “Do you imagine that _I could_ ever make a friend of such a person as Lady Stock?” “A friend! far from it. I am very sure that you could not.” “Then how could I be ambitious of her favour? I am desirous only of the favour, esteem, and affection of my friends.” “But people who live in what is called the world, you know, my dear Almeria, desire to have acquaintance as well as friends,” said Ellen; “and they value those by their fashion or rank, and by the honour which may be received from their notice in public places.” “Yes, my dear,” interrupted Almeria; “though I have never been in London, as you have, I understand all that perfectly well, I assure you; but I only say, that I am certain I should never judge, and that I should never act, in such a manner.” Ellen smiled, and said, “It is difficult to be certain of what we should do in situations in which we have never been placed.”--Almeria burst into tears, and her friend could scarcely pacify her by the kindest expressions.