. If you have any 'sins unwhipt of justice,' there are lines which I defy you to read without faltering—listen to the preface."
Her ladyship began as follows:
"Mr. Day, indeed, retained during all the period of his life, as might be expected from his character, a strong detestation of female seduction——Happening to see some verses, written by a young lady, on a recent event of this nature, which was succeeded by a fatal catastrophe—the unhappy young woman, who had been a victim to the perfidy of a lover, overpowered by her sensibility of shame, having died of a broken heart—he expresses his sympathy with the fair poetess in the following manner."
Lady Delacour paused, and fixed her eyes upon Clarence Hervey. He, with all the appearance of conscious innocence, received the book, without hesitation, from her hands, and read aloud the lines, to which she pointed.
    "Swear by the dread avengers of the tomb,
    By all thy hopes, by death's tremendous gloom,
    That ne'er by thee deceived, the tender maid
    Shall mourn her easy confidence betray'd,
    Nor weep in secret the triumphant art,
    With bitter anguish rankling in her heart;
    So may each blessing, which impartial fate
    Throws on the good, but snatches from the great,
    Adorn thy favour'd course with rays divine,
    And Heaven's best gift, a virtuous love, be thine!"
Mr. Hervey read these lines with so much unaffected, unembarrassed energy, that Lady Delacour could not help casting a triumphant look at Belinda, which said or seemed to say—you see I was right in my opinion of Clarence!
Had Mr. Vincent been left to his own observations, he would have seen the simple truth; but he was alarmed and deceived by Lady Delacour's imprudent expressions of joy, and by the significant looks that she gave her friend Miss Portman, which seemed to be looks of mutual intelligence. He scarcely dared to turn his eyes toward his mistress, or upon him whom he thought his rival: but he kept them anxiously fixed upon her ladyship, in whose face, as in a glass, he seemed to study every thing that was passing.
"Pray, have you ever played at chess, since we saw you last?" said Lady Delacour to Clarence. "I hope you do not forget that you are my knight. I do not forget it, I assure you—I own you as my knight to all the world, in public and private—do not I, Belinda?"
A dark cloud overspread Mr. Vincent'
