e had
forgotten his love. Out dashed all those arguments, all those
appeals, all those assertions, which they say are usual under these
circumstances. She was a woman; he was a man. She had staked her
happiness on this venture; he had a thousand cards to play. Love, and
first love, with her, as with all women, was everything; he and all men,
at the worst, had a thousand resources. He might plunge into politics,
he might game, he might fight, he might ruin himself in innumerable
ways, but she could only ruin herself in one. Miserable woman! Miserable
sex! She had given him her all. She knew it was little: would she had
more! She knew she was unworthy of him: would she were not! She did not
ask him to sacrifice himself to her: she could not expect it; she did
not even desire it. Only, she thought he ought to know exactly the state
of affairs and of consequences, and that certainly if they were parted,
which assuredly they would be, most decidedly she would droop, and fade,
and die. She wept, she sobbed; his entreaties alone seemed to prevent
hysterics.

These scenes are painful at all times, and even the callous, they say,
have a twinge; but when the actress is really beautiful and pure, as
this lady was, and the actor young and inexperienced and amiable, as
this actor was, the consequences are more serious than is usual. The
Duke of St. James was unhappy, he was discontented, he was dissatisfied
with himself. He did not love this lady, if love were the passion which
he entertained for Miss Dacre, but she loved him. He knew that she was
beautiful, and he was convinced that she was excellent. The world
is malicious, but the world had agreed that Lady Aphrodite was an
unblemished pearl: yet this jewel was reserved for him! Intense
gratitude almost amounted to love. In short, he had no idea at this
moment that feelings are not in our power. His were captive, even if
entrapped. It was a great responsibility to desert this creature, the
only one from whom he had experienced devotion. To conclude: a season
of extraordinary dissipation, to use no harsher phrase, had somewhat
exhausted the nervous powers of our hero; his energies were deserting
him; he had not heart or heartlessness enough to extricate himself from
this dilemma. It seemed that if this being to whom he was indebted for
so much joy were miserable, he must be unhappy; that if she died, life
ought to have, could have, no charms for him. He kissed away her tears,
he