nt when they cry out, "Oh, it was highly immoral
and improper of Mr. Warrington to be writing home humdrum demure letters
to his dear mamma, when he was playing all sorts of merry pranks!"--but
drop a curtsey, and say, "Yes, dear grandmamma (or aunt, as may be),
it was very wrong of him: and I suppose you never had your fun when you
were young." Of course, she didn't! And the sun never shone, and the
blossoms never budded, and the blood never danced, and the fiddles never
sang, in her spring-time. Eh, Babet! mon lait de poule et mon bonnet
de nuit! Ho, Betty! my gruel and my slippers! And go, ye frisky, merry
little souls! and dance, and have your merry little supper of cakes and
ale!

CHAPTER XXXI. The Bear and the Leader

Our candid readers know the real state of the case regarding Harry
Warrington and that luckless Cattarina; but a number of the old ladies
at Tunbridge Wells supposed the Virginian to be as dissipated as any
young English nobleman of the highest quality, and Madame de Bernstein
was especially incredulous about her nephew's innocence. It was the old
lady's firm belief that Harry was leading not only a merry life, but a
wicked one, and her wish was father to the thought that the lad might
be no better than his neighbours. An old Roman herself, she liked her
nephew to do as Rome did. All the scandal regarding Mr. Warrington's
Lovelace adventures she eagerly and complacently accepted. We have seen
how, on one or two occasions, he gave tea and music to the company at
the Wells; and he was so gallant and amiable to the ladies (to ladies of
a much better figure and character than the unfortunate Cattarina), that
Madame Bernstein ceased to be disquieted regarding the silly love affair
which had had a commencement at Castlewood, and relaxed in her vigilance
over Lady Maria. Some folks--many old folks--are too selfish to interest
themselves long about the affairs of their neighbours. The Baroness had
her trumps to think of, her dinners, her twinges of rheumatism: and her
suspicions regarding Maria and Harry, lately so lively, now dozed, and
kept a careless, unobservant watch. She may have thought that the danger
was over, or she may have ceased to care whether it existed or not, or
that artful Maria, by her conduct, may have quite cajoled, soothed, and
misguided the old Dragon, to whose charge she was given over. At Maria's
age, nay, earlier indeed, maidens have learnt to be very sly, and at
Madame Ber