t has been a new world. But
she is beginning to find it a narrow one. No, no, she is not tired of my
society. Very far from that. But in her present station an inclination
for such gatherings as you have here, for example, is like a desire to
take the air: and the healthy habits of my duchess have not accustomed
her to be immured. And in fine, devote ourselves as we will, a term
approaches when the enthusiasm for serving as your wife's playfellow all
day, running round tables and flying along corridors before a knotted
handkerchief, is mightily relaxed. Yet the dread of a separation from
her has kept me at these pastimes for a considerable period beyond my
relish of them. Not that I acknowledge fatigue. I have, it seems, a
taste for reflection; I am now much disposed to read and meditate, which
cannot be done without repose. I settle myself, and I receive a worsted
ball in my face, and I am expected to return it. I comply; and then you
would say a nursery in arms. It would else be the deplorable spectacle
of a beautiful young woman yawning.'

'Earthquake and saltpetre threaten us less terribly,' said Mr. Beamish.

'In fine, she has extracted a promise that 'this summer she shall visit
the Wells for a month, and I fear I cannot break my pledge of my word; I
fear I cannot.'

'Very certainly I would not,' said Mr. Beamish.

The duke heaved a sigh. 'There are reasons, family reasons, why my
company and protection must be denied to her here. I have no wish...
indeed my name, for the present, until such time as she shall have
found her feet... and there is ever a penalty to pay for that. Ah, Mr.
Beamish, pictures are ours, when we have bought them and hung them up;
but who insures us possession of a beautiful work of Nature? I have
latterly betaken me to reflect much and seriously. I am tempted to side
with the Divines in the sermons I have read; the flesh is the habitation
of a rebellious devil.'

'To whom we object in proportion as we ourselves become quit of him,'
Mr. Beamish acquiesced.

'But this mania of young people for pleasure, eternal pleasure, is one
of the wonders. It does not pall on them; they are insatiate.'

'There is the cataract, and there is the cliff. Potentate to potentate,
duke--so long as you are on my territory, be it understood. Upon my way
to a place of worship once, I passed a Puritan, who was complaining of
a butterfly that fluttered prettily abroad in desecration of the Day of
Rest. "Frien