“Lady Emily Lindore is certainly the last person from whom I should have expected to hear a panegyric on stupidity,” said Mrs. Downe Wright, with some bitterness.

“Stupidity!—­oh, heavens! my blood curdles at the thought of real, genuine, downright stupidity!  No!  I should always like to have the command of intellect, as well as of money, though my taste, or my indolence, or my whim, perhaps, never would incline me to be always sparkling, whether in wit or in diamonds.  ’Twas only when I was in the nursery that I envied the good girl who spoke rubies and pearls.  Now it seems to me only just better than not spitting toads and vipers.”  And she warbled a sprightly French ariette to a tame bullfinch that flew upon her hand.

There was an airy, high-bred elegance in Lady Emily’s impertinence that seemed to throw Mrs. Downe Wright’s coarse sarcasms to an immeasurable distance; and that lady was beginning to despair, but she was determined not to give in while she could possibly stand out.  She accordingly rallied her forces, and turned to Mary.

“So you have lost your neighbour, Mrs. Lennox, since I was here?  I think she was an acquaintance of yours.  Poor woman! her death must have been a happy release to herself and her friends.  She has left no family, I believe?” quite aware of the report of Mary’s engagement with Colonel Lennox.”

“Only one son,” said Mary, with a little emotion.

“Oh! very true.  He’s in the law, I think?”

“In the army,” answered Mary, faintly.

“That’s a poor trade,” said Mrs. Downe Wright, “and I doubt he’ll not have much to mend it.  Rose Hall’s but a poor property.  I’ve heard they might have had a good estate in Scotland if it hadn’t been for the pride of the General, that wouldn’t let him change his name for it, He thought it grander to be a poor Lennox than a rich Macnaughton, or some such name, It’s to be hoped the son’s of the same mind?”

“I have no doubt of it,” said Lady Emily.  “Tis a noble name-quite a legacy in itself.”

“It’s one that, I am afraid, will not be easily turned into bank notes, however,” returned Mrs. Downe Wright, with a real hearty laugh.  And then, delighted to get off with what she called flying colours, she hastily rose with an exclamation at the lateness of the hour, and a remark how quickly time passed in pleasant company; and, with friendly shakes of the hand, withdrew.

“How very insupportable is such a woman,” said Lady Emily to Mary, “who, to gratify her own malice, says the most cutting things to her neighbours, and at the same time feels self-approbation, in the belief that she is doing good.  And yet, hateful as she is, I blush to say I have sometimes been amused by her ill-nature when it was directed against people I hated still more.  Lady Matilda Sufton, for example,—­there she certainly shone, for hypocrisy is always fair game; and yet the people who love to hunt it are never amiable.  You smile,