night in the fine house where she gave me such a poor reception."
"It makes me unhappy to think of it, but you must forgive her."
"Yes, Sophie; but out of love for you."
"Write to her to the effect that it is to me you give the money, not to her; I dare not tell her so myself."
"I could not do that, my dear; it would be insulting her in her affliction. Do you understand that?"
"Yes, quite well."
"You may tell her that whenever she sends you to dine or sup with me, she will please me very much."
"But you can write that down without wounding her, can you not? Do so, I entreat you. Dear mamma," said she, addressing Pauline, "ask papa to do so, and then I will come and dine with you sometimes."
Pauline laughed with all her heart as she addressed me as husband, and begged me to write the desired epistle. The effect on the mother could only let her know how much I loved her daughter, and would consequently increase her love for her child. I gave in, saying that I could not refuse anything to the adorable woman who had honoured me with the name of husband. Sophie kissed us, and went away in a happy mood.
"It's a long time since I have laughed so much," said Pauline, "and I
don't think I have ever had such an agreeable meal. That child is a perfect treasure. She is unhappy, poor little girl, but she would not be so if I were her mother."
I then told her of the true relationship between Sophie and myself, and the reasons I had for despising her mother.
"I wonder what she will say when Sophie tells her that she found you at table with your wife."
"She won't believe it, as she knows my horror for the sacrament of matrimony."
"How is that?"
"I hate it because it is the grave of love."
"Not always."
As she said this Pauline sighed, and lowering her eyes changed the conversation. She asked me how long I intended to stay in London and when I had replied, "Nine or ten months," I felt myself entitled to ask her the same question.
"I really can't say," she answered, "my return to my country depends on my getting a letter."
"May I ask you what country you come from?"
"I see I shall soon have no secrets from you, but let me have a little time. I have only made your acquaintance to-day, and in a manner which makes me have a very high opinion of you."
"I shall try my best to deserve the good opinions you have conceived of my character."
"You have shewn yourself to me in a thoroughly estimable light."
"Give me your esteem, I desire it earnestly, but don't say anything of respect, for that seems to shut out friendship; I aspire to yours, and I warn you that I shall do my best to gain it."
"I have no doubt you are very clever in that way, but you are generous too, and I hope you will spare me. If the friendship between us became too ardent, a parting would be dreadful, and we may be parted at any moment, indeed I ought to be looking forward to it."
Our dialogue was getting rather sentimental, and with that ease which is only acquired in the best society, Pauline turned it to other topics, and soon asked me to allow her to go upstairs. I would have gladly spent the whole day with her, for I have never met a woman whose manners were so distinguished and at the same time so pleasant.
When she left me I felt a sort of void, and went to see Madame Binetti, who asked me for news of Pembroke. She was in a rage with him.
"He is a detestable fellow," said she; "he would like to have a fresh wife every day! What do you think of such conduct?"
"I envy him his happiness."
"He enjoys it because all women are such fools. He caught me through meeting me at your house; he would never have done so otherwise.
What are you laughing at?"
"Because if he has caught you, you have also caught him; you are therefore quits."
"You don't know what you are talking about."
I came home at eight o'clock, and as soon as Fanny had told Pauline that I had returned she came downstairs. I fancied she was trying to captivate me by her attentions, and as the prospect was quite agreeable to me I thought we should come to an understanding before very long.
Supper was brought in and we stayed at table till midnight, talking about trifles, but so pleasantly that the time passed away very quickly. When she left me she wished me good night, and said my conversation had made her forget her sorrows.
Pembroke came next morning to ask me to give him breakfast, and congratulated me on the disappearance of the bill from my window.
"I should very much like to see your boarder," said he.
"I daresay, my lord, but I can't gratify your curiosity just now, for the lady likes to be alone, and only puts up with my company because she can't help it."
He did not insist, and to turn the conversation I told him that Madame Binetti was furious with him for his inconstancy, which was a testimony to his merits. That made him laugh, and without giving me any answer he asked me if I dined at home that day.
"No, my lord, not to-day."
"I understand. Well, it's very natural; bring the affair to a happy conclusion."
"I will do my best."
Martinelli had found two or three parodies of my notice in the Advertiser, and came and read them to me. I was much amused with them; they were mostly indecent, for the liberty of the press is much abused in London. As for Martinelli he was too discreet and delicate a man to ask me about my new boarder. As it was Sunday, I begged him to take me to mass at the Bavarian ambassador's chapel; and here I
must confess that I was not moved by any feelings of devotion, but by the hope of seeing Pauline. I had my trouble for nothing, for, as I
heard afterwards, she sat in a dark corner where no one could see her. The chapel was full, and Martinelli pointed out several lords and ladies who were Catholics, and did not conceal their religion.
