a sort of imagination of one; but it is a phantom which flits at the cockcrowing of reality. We soon learn,
'That the worth of any thing
Is just as much as it will bring:'
and we value a lover by the estimate of others, not by our own. Our own suffrage is nothing."
"This is making love a mere question of vanity," said Henrietta.
"A question, my dear, I should have thought you could have answered as well as any one," returned Lady Mary. "Love is society's Alexander the Great, only intent on making conquests; and we care for no captives but those who follow the track of our triumphs in chains."
"I utterly disagree with you," exclaimed Henrietta; "I have always thought mystery the very atmosphere of love!"
"Oh! you would like a cavalier, with the dramatic accompaniments of moonlight and mask. Well, the two first are quite ready;
