ssed with a taste or afflicted with
a genius," said Lady Erpingham; who, having lived with the wits and
orators of the time, had caught mechanically their way of rounding a
period.

"Far from it!" returned the earl. "Godolphin is much too deep a fellow
for that; he's not easily taken in, I assure you. I confess I don't like
him the worse for that," added the close noble. "But he lived with the
Italian doctors and men of science; and encouraged, in particular, one
strange fellow who affected sorcery, I fancy, or something very like
it. Godolphin resided in a very lonely spot at Rome: and I believe
laboratories, and caldrons, and all sorts of devilish things, were
always at work there--at least so people said."

"And yet," said Constance, "you thought him too sensible to be easily
taken in?"

"Indeed I do, Miss Vernon; and the proof of it is, that no man has less
fortune or is made more of. He plays, it is true, but only occasionally;
though as a player at games of skill--piquet, billiards, whist,--he
has no equal, unless it be Saville. But then Saville, entre noun, is
suspected of playing unfairly."

"And you are quite sure," said the placid Lady Erpingham, "that Mr.
Godolphin is only indebted to skill for his success?"

Constance darted a glance of fire at the speaker.

"Why, faith, I believe so! No one ever accused him of a single shabby,
or even suspicious trick; and indeed, as I said before, no one was ever
more sought after in society, though he shuns it; and he's devilish
right, for it's a cursed bore!"

"My dear Robert! at your age!" exclaimed the mother. "But," continued
the earl, turning to Constance,--"but, Miss Vernon, a man may have his
weak point; and the cunning Italian may have hit on Godolphin's, clever
as he is in general; though, for my part, I will tell you frankly, I
think he only encouraged him to mystify and perplex people, just to
get talked of--vanity, in short. He's a good-looking fellow that
Godolphin--eh?" continued the earl, in the tone of a man who meant you
to deny what he asserted.

"Oh, beautiful!" said Lady Erpingham. "Such a countenance!"

"Deuced pale, though!--eh?--and not the best of figures: thin,
narrow-shouldered, eh--eh?"

Godolphin's proportions were faultless; but your strapping heroes think
of a moderate-sized man as mathematicians define a point--declare that
he has no length nor breadth whatsoever.

"What say _you,_ Constance?" asked Lady Erpingham, meaningly.