"Certainly," replied Lady Glenmore, "I have but one meaning, one intention--that is, to love and be loved; and I shall never, I hope, do any thing which can run counter to that prime business, that prime duty of my life." "Oh!" cried Lady Tenderden, perceiving she had gone too far, "it is quite delightful to hear you. You are, I am sure, destined to be a phœnix" (sneeringly); "and proud indeed must any woman be to view one of her own sex so well calculated to be a glory and honour to it. I was only warning you against certain appearances, certain misapprehensions, which persons of your turn of mind are liable to fall into, and which might be the very means of depriving you of that which you are so anxious to retain. I know the world, believe me, my dear young friend, and there is nothing in it I can so ill endure to see, as an assumption of a happiness which is out of the common line. If you enjoy such a superlative felicity, _tant mieux pour vous_, but do not make an _étalage_ of it, for either its reality will be questioned, or they will take care it shall not long be one; whereas if you do as other people do, you will be allowed to go on quietly, and you may perhaps carry on this sort of romantic view of life much longer than persons in general do." Lady Glenmore, who had listened with painful earnestness to this insidious advice, now felt her heart swell, and the tears bursting from her eyes. "And must I really," she said in a voice of suffocation, "pretend to be indifferent to my husband, in order to retain his love?" "Certainly, my dear child; _peut on être si enfant_" (observing her emotion), "as to allow yourself to be thus moved about such a trifle; take my advice, and you will never lose that sort of hold over his affections which it is so charming, I allow, to possess. Shew him that you can have other men at your feet--that you are not, in short, dependent upon him for any thing _faites vous un sort_, in short, _et vous ne vous en répentirez pas_." "And pray, how am I to set about this sort of life?" "Why nothing so easy; simply, go constantly out, and take care to have one or two young men _de la première volée_ always about you; never be reduced to be handed out or into any public place by Lord Glenmore; only now and then _pour faire beau voir_, and to shew that you have _des procédés honnêtes_ one to the other--or else _par hasard_, but never as a thing of course. Another point is, you must establish an apartment of your own; for you cannot think between married persons how necessary that is, and what an independence it gives to both. It is so very disagreeable to have the exact moment of our going in and coming out commented upon." "Dear no, pardon me, not at all. I am always glad when Lord Glenmore says, 'Where have you been so long, Georgina?' because that shews he misses me."