for other people's griefs as much as our own, how intolerable human life
would be! If my neighbour's tight boot pinched my corn; if the calumny
uttered against Jones set Brown into fury; if Mrs. A's death plunged
Messrs. B, C, D, E, F, into distraction, would there be any bearing of
the world's burthen? Do not let us be in the least angry or surprised if
all the company played on, and were happy, although Lady Maria had come
to grief. Countess, the deal is with you! Are you going to Stubblefield
to shoot as usual, Sir John? Captain, we shall have you running off to
the Bath after the widow! So the clatter goes on; the lights burns; the
beaux and the ladies flirt, laugh, ogle; the prisoner rages in his cell;
the sick man tosses on his bed.

Perhaps Madame de Bernstein stayed at the assembly until the very last,
not willing to allow the company the chance of speaking of her as soon
as her back should be turned. Ah, what a comfort it is, I say again,
that we have backs, and that our ears don't grow on them! He that has
ears to hear, let him stuff them with cotton. Madame Bernstein might
have heard folks say it was heartless of her to come abroad, and play
at cards, and make merry when her niece was in trouble. As if she could
help Maria by staying at home, indeed! At her age, it is dangerous to
disturb an old lady's tranquillity. "Don't tell me!" says Lady Yarmouth.
"The Bernstein would play at cards over her niece's coffin. Talk about
her heart! who ever said she had one? That old spy lost it to the
Chevalier a thousand years ago, and has lived ever since perfectly well
without one. For how much is the Maria put in prison? If it were only a
small sum we would pay it, it would vex her aunt so. Find out, Fuchs, in
the morning, for how much Lady Maria Esmond is put in prison." And the
faithful Fuchs bowed, and promised to do her Excellency's will.

Meanwhile, about midnight, Madame de Bernstein went home, and presently
fell into a sound sleep, from which she did not wake up until a late
hour of the morning, when she summoned her usual attendant, who arrived
with her ladyship's morning dish of tea. If I told you she took a dram
with it, you would be shocked. Some of our great-grandmothers used to
have cordials in their "closets." Have you not read of the fine lady in
Walpole, who said, "If I drink more, I shall be 'muckibus!'?" As surely
as Mr. Gough is alive now, our ancestresses were accustomed to partake
pretty freely of