“Certainly, show me a virtue, male or female--if virtues admit of grammatical distinctions, if virtues acknowledge the more worthy gender and the less worthy of the grammar, show me a virtue male or female that _can_ long exist without truth. Even that emphatically termed the virtue of our sex, Helen, on which social happiness rests, society depends, on what is it based? is it not on that single-hearted virtue truth?--and truth on what? on courage of the mind. They who dare to speak the truth, will not ever dare to go irretrievably wrong. Then what is falsehood but cowardice?--and a false woman!--does not that say all in one word?” “But whence arose all this? you wonder, perhaps,” said Lady Davenant; “and I have not inclination to explain. Here comes Lord Davenant. Now for politics--farewell morality, a long farewell. Now for the London budget, and ‘what news from Constantinople? Grand vizier certainly strangled, or not?’” CHAPTER VI. The London budget of news was now opened, and gone through by Lord Davenant, including quarrels in the cabinet and all that with fear of change perplexes politicians. But the fears and hopes of different ages are attached to such different subjects, that Helen heard all this as though she heard it not, and went on with her drawing, touching, and retouching it, without ever looking up, till her attention was wakened by the name of Granville Beauclerc; this was the name of the person who had written those interesting letters which she had met with in Lady Davenant’s portfolio. “What is he doing in town?” asked the general. “Amusing himself, I suppose,” replied Lord Davenant. “I believe he forgets that I am his guardian,” said the general. “I am sure he cannot forget that you are his friend,” said Lady Cecilia; “for he has the best heart in the world.” “And the worst head for any thing useful,” said the general. “He is a man of genius,” said Lady Davenant. “Did you speak to him, my lord,” pursued the general, “about standing for the county?” “Yes.” “And he said what?” “That he would have nothing to do with it.” “Why?” “Something about not being tied to party, and somewhat he said about patriotism,” replied Lord Davenant. “Nonsense!” said the general, “he is a fool.” “Only young,” said Lady Davenant, “Men are not so very young in these days at two-and-twenty,” said the general. “In some,” said Lady Davenant, “the classical touch, the romance of political virtue, lasts for months, if not years, after they leave college; even those who, like Granville, go into high life in London, do not sometimes, for a season or two, lose their first enthusiasm of patriotism.” The general’s lips became compressed. Lord Davenant, throwing himself back in his easy chair, repeated, “Patriotism! yes, every young man of talent is apt to begin with a fit of that sort.” “My dear lord,” cried Lady Davenant, “you, of all men, to speak of patriotism as a disease!”