"You certainly converse, Lord Albert," said Lady Hamlet Vernon, "very differently from any person I ever conversed with; your ideas are quite extraordinary to me, quite new, and you have made me lose myself in a world of thought; you make me feel that every thing I have hitherto thought was all mistake; but you must allow me to say, that, though willing to become your pupil, I must be somewhat instructed in this novel language before I feel myself competent to reply." "What I said seems to me very simple; I am not conscious of having expressed any abstruse or recondite thoughts: at all events, I certainly did not mean to be affected, still less impertinent--it was something you said, which startled me, and made me feel concern, and it might seem to you, that I evinced it with too much freedom--if I have erred, pardon me." "Pardon, my dear Lord! there is no question about pardoning; but I am curious to know what made you look so very grave when I said I wished to forget my existence, and lose all sense of what had befallen me, or what might befall me, in the busy idleness of life--do you attach any very dreadful idea to this declaration?" "A very dreadful one indeed," was his reply. "Well, then, I do begin to believe that what I heard of you was true--you are one of the saints--I mean, one of the set of people who go about preaching and praying all day long. But then you frequent balls and assemblies, and are so charming, I cannot reconcile this idea with your air, appearance, and demeanour, or with the character of those sour, misanthropic beings: do explain to me this mystery." "I wish I were one of those whom you so designate," said Lord Albert D'Esterre gravely,--"but indeed I am far from being so. All I can say to explain my meaning briefly is, that I have received a Christian and religious education, and consequently that I think to live by chance, and to let accident sway our actions, is a perilous state of delusion." "What do you mean to say, Lord Albert, that you regulate all your thoughts, words, and actions, by some strictly self-drawn line of rule?" "Oh, Lady Hamlet Vernon, you probe my conscience, and I am thankful to you: no, indeed, I have never yet been enabled so to do--but I wish I could--not indeed by any self-drawn line or rule, but that by which all ought to guide themselves." "Well, at last I have met with one extraordinary person, and this our conversation must be resumed; but here comes some unwelcome visitor, and for the moment the subject must drop."