ch justice, she actually kept the man's menage in the
best order; nor was there any point of extravagance with which she could
be charged, except a little extravagance of dress displayed on the
very few occasions when he condescended to walk abroad with her, and
extravagance of language and passion in the frequent quarrels they
had together. Perhaps in such a connection as subsisted between this
precious couple, these faults are inevitable on the part of the woman.
She must be silly and vain, and will pretty surely therefore be fond of
dress; and she must, disguise it as she will, be perpetually miserable
and brooding over her fall, which will cause her to be violent and
quarrelsome.

Such, at least, was Mrs. Hall; and very early did the poor vain
misguided wretch begin to reap what she had sown.

For a man, remorse under these circumstances is perhaps uncommon.
No stigma affixes on HIM for betraying a woman; no bitter pangs of
mortified vanity; no insulting looks of superiority from his neighbour,
and no sentence of contemptuous banishment is read against him; these
all fall on the tempted, and not on the tempter, who is permitted to
go free. The chief thing that a man learns after having successfully
practised on a woman is to despise the poor wretch whom he has won.
The game, in fact, and the glory, such as it is, is all his, and the
punishment alone falls upon her. Consider this, ladies, when charming
young gentlemen come to woo you with soft speeches. You have nothing to
win, except wretchedness, and scorn, and desertion. Consider this, and
be thankful to your Solomons for telling it.

It came to pass, then, that the Count had come to have a perfect
contempt and indifference for Mrs. Hall;--how should he not for a young
person who had given herself up to him so easily?--and would have been
quite glad of any opportunity of parting with her. But there was a
certain lingering shame about the man, which prevented him from saying
at once and abruptly, "Go!" and the poor thing did not choose to take
such hints as fell out in the course of their conversation and quarrels.
And so they kept on together, he treating her with simple insult, and
she hanging on desperately, by whatever feeble twig she could find, to
the rock beyond which all was naught, or death, to her.

Well, after the night with Tom Trippet and the pretty fellows at the
"Rose," to which we have heard the Count allude in the conversation
just recorded, Fo