and partners for her own protégée, of interruptions, ifs, and buts, for others. But, as Ude says of a forcemeat ball, "il faut un génie pour cela," and to that Lady Alicia made no pretensions.
Evening after evening Emily stepped into the carriage with all the slowness of discontent, and flung off robe and wreath on her return with all the pettishness of disappointment. In the mean time her uncle was quite edified by her letters: she spoke with such regret of the country, with its simple and innocent pleasures, how different to the weariness which attended London dissipation; she was eloquent on the waste of time, the heartlessness of its pursuits; she anticipated with so much delight her return to the friends of her youth, that they scarcely knew whether to be most enchanted with her affection or her sense. What a foundation mortified vanity is for philosophy!
The Opera was the only place where she had experienced unmixed gratification: from her first glance at its magnificent outline—its sea of white waving plumes, with many a bright eye and jewelled arm shining like its meteors, its beautiful faces, seen in all the advantage of
