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The young lady must wither, Mrs. Warwick have her day. The veteran confided her experienced why to Lady Wathin: 'All the tales you tell of a woman of that sort are sharp sauce to the palates of men. They might be, to the men of the dreadful gilded idle class! Mrs. Warwick's day appeared indefinitely prolonged, judging by Percy Dacier's behaviour to Miss Asper.
She should be under the wing of Lady Wathin. There is the mother for such chicks! But I'll own to you, Emmy, that after the perusal, I did ask myself a question as to my likeness of late to the writer. I have drivelled . . . I was shuddering over it when you came in. I have sentimentalized up to thin smoke.
Warwick, a woman of no birth, no money, not even honest character, enjoyed the entry undisputed, circulated among the highest: because people took her rattle for wit! and because also our nobility, Lady Wathin feared, had no due regard for morality. Our aristocracy, brilliant and ancient though it was, merited rebuke.
'I am glad of Mr. Warwick's having friends; and they are many, I hope. 'They cannot behold him perishing, without an effort on his behalf. A chasm of silence intervened. Wifely pity was not sounded in it. 'He will question me, Mrs. Warwick. 'You can report to him the heads of our conversation, Lady Wathin.
There indeed we may, sitting with the very Highest, forget our personal disappointments in dispensing reprobation for misconduct, however eminent the offenders. She was Lady Wathin, and once on an afternoon's call to see poor Lady Dunstane at her town-house, she had been introduced to Lady Pennon, a patroness of Mrs.
Lady Wathin watched them narrowly when she had the chance, a little ashamed of her sex, or indignant rather at his display of courtliness in exchange for her open betrayal of her preference. It was almost to be wished that she would punish him by sacrificing herself to one of her many brilliant proposals of marriage.
Love so ardent, so sincere, was never shown by bridegroom elect: and it is not extraordinary to those acquainted with dear Constance. But one may be a worshipped saint and experience defection. The terrible stories one hears of a power of fascination almost...! Lady Wathin hung for the word. 'Infernal, said Lady Dunstane, whose brows had been bent inquiringly. 'Have no fear.
'I grieve at his condition. His proposal has already been made and replied to. 'Oh, but, Mrs. Warwick, an immediate and decisive refusal of a proposal so fraught with consequences...! 'Ah, but, Lady Wathin, you are now outstepping the limits prescribed by the office you have undertaken. 'You will not lend ear to an intercession? 'I will not. 'Of course, Mrs.
A woman under a cloud, she talked, pushed to shine; she would be heard, would be applauded. Her chronicler must likewise admit the error of her giving way to a petty sentiment of antagonism on first beholding Mrs. Cramborne Wathin, before whom she at once resolved to be herself, for a holiday, instead of acting demurely to conciliate.
But as guardians of morality, often doing good duty in their office, they are persistent. When Parliament assembled, Mr. Quintin Manx, a punctual member of the House, if nothing else, arrived in town. He was invited to dine with Lady Wathin. After dinner she spoke to him of the absent Constance, and heard of her being well, and expressed a great rejoicing at that.
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