broke out sometimes in petulance, sometimes in sarcasm; all admitted that her ladyship was very unequal, but very brilliant; and even her rudeness passed only for "pretty Fanny's way."
It is strange what society will endure from its idols. Henrietta had too much vanity not to like the homage that surrounded her; still she was too shrewd not to see through it, and she pined for something better. Between Lord Marchmont and herself the distance became greater every day; she despised him, and he disliked her; ay, disliked, for we hate the superiority which we only acknowledge secretly. Henrietta would have loved any man whom she could have admired; admiration is the divinest privilege of a high and generous nature like hers; it is the smaller and meaner kind who look down, but in her husband there was not one redeeming point:
"The head was vacant, and the heart was cold."
His lovely and neglected wife was in the most
