mbled his wealth. No sooner had this
incident taken place than did Mrs. Dallington Vere hurry to London, and
soon evinced a most laudable determination to console herself for her
husband's political disabilities. Mrs. Dallington Vere went to Court;
and Mrs. Dallington Vere gave suppers after the opera, and concerts
which, in number and brilliancy, were only equalled by her balls. The
dandies patronised her, and selected her for their Muse. The Duke of
Shropshire betted on her always at ecarte; and, to crown the whole
affair, she made Mr. Dallington Vere lay claim to a dormant peerage. The
women were all pique, the men all patronage. A Protestant minister
was alarmed; and Lord Squib supposed that Mrs. Dallington must be the
Scarlet Lady of whom they had heard so often.

Season after season she kept up the ball; and although, of course, she
no longer made an equal sensation, she was not less brilliant, nor
her position less eminent. She had got into the best set, and was more
quiet, like a patriot in place. Never was there a gayer lady than Mrs.
Dallington Vere, but never a more prudent one. Her virtue was only
equalled by her discretion; but, as the odds were equal, Lord Squib
betted on the last. People sometimes indeed did say--they always
will--but what is talk? Mere breath. And reputation is marble, and iron,
and sometimes brass; and so, you see, talk has no chance. They did say
that Sir Lucius Grafton was about to enter into the Romish communion;
but then it turned out that it was only to get a divorce from his wife,
on the plea that she was a heretic.

The fact was, Mrs. Dallington Vere was a most successful woman, lucky in
everything, lucky even in her husband; for he died. He did not only die;
he left his whole fortune to his wife. Some said that his relations
were going to set aside the will, on the plea that it was written with a
crow-quill on pink paper; but this was false; it was only a codicil.

All eyes were on a very pretty woman, with fifteen thousand a year, and
only twenty-three. The Duke of Shropshire wished he were disembarrassed.
Such a player of ecarte might double her income. Lord Raff advanced,
trusting to his beard, and young Amadee de Rouerie mortgaged his
dressing-case, and came post from Paris; but in spite of his sky-blue
nether garments and his Hessians, he followed my Lord's example, and
re-crossed the water. It is even said that Lord Squib was sentimental;
but this must have been the mali