nce by different tactics; some, perhaps, would have forgotten
their mortification in their revenge. But Lady Aphrodite had been the
victim of passion, and now was its slave. She could not dissemble.

Not so her spouse. Sir Lucius knew too well the value of a good
character to part very easily with that which he had so unexpectedly
regained. Whatever were his excesses, they were prudent ones. He felt
that boyhood could alone excuse the folly of glorying in vice; and he
knew that, to respect virtue, it was not absolutely necessary to be
virtuous. No one was, apparently, more choice in his companions than Sir
Lucius Grafton; no husband was seen oftener with his wife; no one paid
more respect to age, or knew better when to wear a grave countenance.
The world praised the magical influence of Lady Aphrodite; and Lady
Aphrodite, in private, wept over her misery. In public she made an
effort to conceal all she felt; and, as it is a great inducement to
every woman to conceal that she is neglected by the man whom she adores,
her effort was not unsuccessful. Yet her countenance might indicate that
she was little interested in the scene in which she mixed. She was too
proud to weep, but too sad to smile. Elegant and lone, she stood among
her crushed and lovely hopes like a column amid the ruins of a beautiful
temple.

The world declared that Lady Aphrodite was desperately virtuous, and the
world was right. A thousand fireflies had sparkled round this myrtle,
and its fresh and verdant hue was still unsullied and un-scorched. Not
a very accurate image, but pretty; and those who have watched a glancing
shower of these glittering insects will confess that, poetically, the
bush might burn. The truth is, that Lady Aphrodite still trembled when
she recalled the early anguish of her broken sleep of love, and had not
courage enough to hope that she might dream again. Like the old Hebrews,
she had been so chastened for her wild idolatry that she dared not again
raise an image to animate the wilderness of her existence. Man she at
the same time feared and despised. Compared with her husband, all who
surrounded her were, she felt, in appearance inferior, and were, she
believed, in mind the same.

We know not how it is, but love at first sight is a subject of constant
ridicule; but, somehow, we suspect that it has more to do with the
affairs of this world than the world is willing to own. Eyes meet which
have never met before, and glances thr