Even when we have made due allowance for the fact that the pen of Sir Kenelm Digby was inclined to be a little flowery, sufficient is left in this description of Lady Purbeck to make her character attractive, and we know that nature had added to her charms by endowing her with exceptional beauty. No attempt shall be made here to exaggerate either her attractions or her virtues, much less to extenuate or minimise her faults; but let us at least forgive the latter. There are ladies who call the story of Mary Magdalen "beautiful," yet would on no consideration tolerate a repetition of even its most beautiful incidents, in real life. If she now existed, the greatest concession they would make would be to subscribe towards sending her to a Home for Fallen Women; or, which is more likely, they would ask for an order of admission for her from someone else who subscribed to such an institution. From such we cannot expect a charitable view of _The Curious Case of Lady Purbeck_. It would be out of place to enter into petty theological questions in a comparatively trivial work such as this--to inquire, for instance, into the question whether it may not be as possible to be damned for detraction as to be damned for adultery; but we may at least believe that Lady Purbeck spent her later years in contrition for the past and virtue in the present. We have now done with the curious case of Lady Purbeck, and it only remains to say something about the less curious cases of some of her descendants. It might be supposed that "Robert Wright," who was just of age at the time of his mother's death, would be proud to bear the name of Villiers and to be acknowledged as the rightful heir to the estates and title of Viscount Purbeck. As time went on, however, he became ashamed of those privileges.[104] The son of a Cavalier, he became a Roundhead, and three years after the death of his mother he married one of the daughters and co-heiresses of his relative, Sir John Danvers, subsequently one of the judges who condemned King Charles I. to death. He eventually obtained a patent from Oliver Cromwell to change his name for that of his wife, declaring that he hated the name of Villiers on account of the mischief which several of those who bore it had done to the Commonwealth; and as to the title of Viscount Purbeck, he disclaimed it with contempt.