wn."
But though she thought it a sin to dine with a sober family, she made
herself amends for the sacrifice, by letting us see that her heart was
brimful of the world, pressed down and running over. She indemnified
herself for her abstinence from its diversions, by indulging in the only
pleasures which she thought compatible with the sanctity of the season,
uncharitable gossip, and unbounded calumny. She would not touch a card
for the world, but she played over to Sir John the whole game of the
preceding Saturday night: told him by what a shameful inattention her
partner had lost the odd trick; and that she should not have been beaten
after all, had not her adversary, she verily believed, contrived to look
over her hand.

Sir John seized the only minute in which we were alone, to ask her to
add a guinea to a little sum he was collecting for a poor tradesman with
a large family, who had been burned out a few nights ago. "His wife,"
added he, "was your favorite maid Dixon, and both are deserving people."
"Ah, poor Dixon! She was always unlucky," replied the lady. "How could
they be so careless? Surely they might have put the fire out sooner.
They should not have let it get ahead. I wonder people are not more
active." "It is too late to inquire about that," said Sir John; "the
question now is, not how their loss might have been prevented, but how
it may be repaired." "I am really quite sorry," said she, "that I can
give you nothing. I have had so many calls lately, that my charity purse
is completely exhausted--and that abominable property-tax makes me quite
a beggar."

While she was speaking, I glanced at the open leaf at, "Charge them that
are rich in this world that they be ready to give;" and directing my eye
further, it fell on, "Be not deceived. God is not mocked." These were
the awful passages which formed a part of her _Preparation_; and this
was the practical use she made of them!

A dozen persons of both sexes "had their exits and their entrances"
during our stay; for the scene was so strange, and the character so new
to me, that I felt unwilling to stir. Among other visitors was Signor
Squallini, a favorite opera singer, whom she patronized. Her face was
lighted up with joy at the sight of him. He brought her an admired new
air in which he was preparing himself, and sung a few notes, that she
might say she had heard it the first. She felt all the dignity of the
privilege, and extolled the air with all the phr