There was in London a celebrated portrait-painter called Lely, who had greatly improved himself by studying the famous Vandyke’s pictures, which were dispersed all over England in abundance.  Lely imitated Vandyke’s manner, and approached the nearest to him of all the moderns.  The Duchess of York, being desirous of having the portraits of the handsomest persons at court, Lely painted them, and employed all his skill in the performance; nor could he ever exert himself upon more beautiful subjects.  Every picture appeared a master-piece; and that of Miss Hamilton appeared the highest finished:  Lely himself acknowledged that he had drawn it with a particular pleasure.  The Duke of York took a delight in looking at it, and began again to ogle the original:  he had very little reason to hope for success; and at the same time that his hopeless passion alarmed the Chevalier de Grammont, Lady Denham thought proper to renew the negotiation which had so unluckily been interrupted:  it was soon brought to a conclusion; for where both parties are sincere in a negotiation, no time is lost in cavilling.  Everything succeeded prosperously on one side; yet, I know not what fatality obstructed the pretensions of the other.  The duke was very urgent with the duchess to put Lady Denham in possession of the place which was the object of her ambition; but as she was not guarantee for the performance of the secret articles of the treaty, though till this time she had borne with patience the inconstancy of the duke, and yielded submissively to his desires; yet, in the present instance, it appeared hard and dishonourable to her, to entertain near her person, a rival, who would expose her to the danger of acting but a second part in the midst of her own court.  However, she saw herself upon the point of being forced to it by authority, when a far more unfortunate obstacle for ever bereft poor Lady Denham of the hopes of possessing that fatal place, which she had solicited with such eagerness.

Old Denham, naturally jealous, became more and more suspicious, and found that he had sufficient ground for such conduct:  his wife was young and handsome, he old and disagreeable:  what reason then had he to flatter himself that Heaven would exempt him from the fate of husbands in the like circumstances?  This he was continually saying to himself; but when compliments were poured in upon him from all sides, upon the place his lady was going to have near the duchess’s person, he formed ideas of what was sufficient to have made him hang himself, if he had possessed the resolution.  The traitor chose rather to exercise his courage against another.  He wanted precedents for putting in practice his resentments in a privileged country:  that of Lord Chesterfield was not sufficiently bitter for the revenge he meditated:  besides, he had no country-house to which he could carry his unfortunate wife.  This being the case, the old villain made her travel a much longer journey without stirring out of London.  Merciless fate robbed her of life, and of her dearest hopes, in the bloom of youth.