nder,
then, that poor Lady Westborough, never too rigidly addicted to
self-examination, and viewing all things through a very worldly
medium, saw only, in the alternate art and urgency employed against
her daughter's real happiness, the various praiseworthy motives of
permanently disentangling Lady Flora from an unworthy attachment, of
procuring for her an establishment proportioned to her rank, and a
husband whose attachment, already shown by such singular perseverance,
was so likely to afford her everything which, in Lady Westborough's
eyes, constituted felicity?

All our friends, perhaps, desire our happiness; but then it must
invariably be in their own way. What a pity that they do not employ the
same zeal in making us happy in ours!

CHAPTER LXII.

If thou criest after knowledge, and liftest up thy voice for understanding;
If thou seekest her as silver, and searchest for her as for hid treasures:
Then shalt thou understand the fear of the Lord, and find the knowledge of God.
--Proverbs ii. 3, 4, 5.

While Clarence was thus misjudged by one whose affections and conduct
he, in turn, naturally misinterpreted; while Lady Flora was alternately
struggling against and submitting to the fate which Lady Westborough saw
approach with gladness, the father with indifference, and the bridegroom
with a pride that partook less of rapture than revenge,--our unfortunate
lover was endeavouring to glean, from Mordaunt's conversation and
example, somewhat of that philosophy so rare except in the theories
of the civilized and the occasional practice of the barbarian, which,
though it cannot give us a charm against misfortune, bestows, at least,
upon us the energy to support it.

We have said already that when the first impression produced by
Mordaunt's apparent pride and coldness wore away, it required little
penetration to discover the benevolence and warmth of his mind. But none
ignorant of his original disposition, or the misfortunes of his life,
could ever have pierced the depth of his self-sacrificing nature,
or measured the height of his lofty and devoted virtue. Many men may
perhaps be found who will give up to duty a cherished wish or even a
darling vice; but few will ever renounce to it their rooted tastes,
or the indulgence of those habits which have almost become by long use
their happiness itself. Naturally melancholy and thoughtful, feeding
the sensibilities of his heart upon fiction, and though addicted to