"Well indeed she might!" cried Alice. "Think of what an office for a young lady!--such a combination of disease and filthiness! If I hear of any young lady in town, sick of a fever, I shall at once know who was Mrs. Delanty's nurse." "May Heaven preserve her health," said Montague with fervor. "Persons of less active kindness could much better be spared; and the community would suffer little loss, were they laid on a bed of sickness." "Very true," said Alice. "Yet there are very few, who can with propriety be called young _ladies_, who are capable of rendering such services. One might be ready to relieve suffering if it existed under less disgusting circumstances; but for a delicate female to encounter such dirt, and disease, and poverty at once, is too much!" "Firm principle, a truly feeling heart, and a self-denying spirit, could alone enable a delicate woman to do it," said Montague,--"and these could!" He looked around to ascertain whether Margarette had really left the room, and then added--"And pardon me, my dearest cousin, if I suggest to you, that would you strive to conquer that extreme sensibility, which makes you shrink from scenes of suffering, and constrain yourself to witness and relieve distress, in your own person, you would render yourself, at once, far more happy and useful, if not more interesting. _Active benevolence_ is one great secret of happiness." At this moment Mr. Claremont entered the room; the conversation turned to other subjects, and Montague soon took leave.