“Vivian, my good fellow! why do you let yourself be ruled by that modern stoic in the form of Lord Lidhurst’s tutor? I never saw any of these cold moralists who were real, warm-hearted, good friends. I have a notion I see more of Russell’s play in the house where he has got than he thinks I do; and I can form a shrewd guess why he was so zealous in warning you of the report about Lady Sarah Lidhurst--he had his own snug reasons for wanting you away--Oh, trust me for scenting out self-interest, through all the doublings and windings of your cunning moralist!” Reddening with indignation at this attack upon his friend, Vivian warmly replied, that Mr. Wharton ought to restrain his wit where the feelings of friendship and the character of a man of honour were concerned; that he did not, in the least, comprehend his insinuations with regard to Russell; but that, for his own part, he had such firm reliance upon his friend’s attachment and integrity, that he was at any time ready to pledge his own honour for Russell’s, and to answer for it with his life. “Spare your heroics, my dear Vivian!” cried Wharton, laughing; “for we are not in the days of Pylades and Orestes;--yet, upon my soul, instead of being as angry with you as you are with me, at this instant I like you a thousand times the better for your enthusiastic credulity. For my part, I have, ever since I lived in the world and put away childish things, regretted that charming instinct of credulity, which experience so fatally counteracts. I envy you, my dear boy!--as to the rest, you know Russell’s merits better than I do: I’ll take him henceforward upon trust from you.” “Thus Wharton, finding that he was upon dangerous ground, made a timely retreat: the playful manner and open countenance with which he now spoke, and the quick transition that he made to other subjects of conversation, prevented Vivian from suspecting that any settled design had been formed to detach him from Russell. From this time forward, Wharton forbore raillery on love and friendship; and, far from seeming desirous of interfering in Vivian’s private concerns, appeared quite absorbed in politics. Avowing, as he did, that he was guided solely by his interest in public life, he laughed at Vivian for professing more generous principles. “I know,” cried Wharton, “how to make use of a fine word, and to round a fine sentence, as well as the best of you; but what a simpleton he must be who is cheated by his own sophistry!--An artist, an enthusiastic artist, who is generally half a madman, might fall in love with a statue of his own making; but you never heard of a coiner, did you, who was cheated by his own bad shilling? Patriotism and loyalty are counterfeit coin; I can’t be taken in by them at my time of day.”