Mr. Clarence Hervey is, without exception, the most humble man of my acquaintance; for whilst all good judges would think him fit company for Mr. Percival, he has the humility to think himself upon a level with Mr. Rochfort and Sir Philip Baddely.”

“You have lost as little of your satirical wit, Dr. X——, as of your active benevolence, I perceive,” said Clarence Hervey, “since I met you abroad. But as I cannot submit to your unjust charge of humility, will you tell me where you are to be found in town, and tomorrow—”

“Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,” said Dr. X——: “why not today?”

“I am engaged,” said Clarence, hesitating and laughing—“I am unfortunately engaged today to dine with Mr. Rochfort and Sir Philip Baddely, and in the evening I am to be at Lady Delacour’s.”

“Lady Delacour! Not the same Lady Delacour whom four years ago, when we met at Florence, you compared to the Venus de Medici—no, no, it cannot be the same—a goddess of four years’ standing!—Incredible!”

“Incredible as it seems,” said Clarence, “it is true: I admire her ladyship more than ever I did.”

“Like a true connoisseur,” said Dr. X——, “you admire a fine picture the older it grows: I hear that her ladyship’s face is really one of the finest pieces of painting extant, with the advantage of

‘Ev’ry grace which time alone can grant.’”

“Come, come, Dr. X——,” cried Mr. Percival, “no more wit at Lady Delacour’s expense: I have a fellow-feeling for Mr. Hervey.”

“Why, you are not in love with her ladyship, are you?” said Dr. X——. “I am not in love with Lady Delacour’s picture of herself,” replied Mr. Percival, “but I was once in love with the original.”

“How?—When?—Where?” cried Clarence Hervey, in a tone totally different from that in which he had first addressed Mr. Percival.

“Tomorrow you shall know the how, the when, and the where,” said Mr. Percival: “here’s your friend, Mr. St. George, and his coach.”

“The deuce take him!” said Clarence: “but tell me, is it possible that you are not in love with her still?—and why?”

“Why?” said Mr. Percival—“why? Come tomorrow, as you have promised, to Upper Grosvenor Street, and let me introduce you to Lady Anne Percival; she can answer your question better than I can—if not entirely to your satisfaction, at least entirely to mine, which is more surprising, as the lady is my wife.”

By this time Clarence Hervey was equipped in a dry suit of clothes; and by the strength of an excellent constitution, which he had never injured, even amongst his dissipated associates, he had recovered from the effects of his late imprudence.—“Clary, let’s away, here’s the coach,” said Mr. St. George. “Why, my boy—that’s a famous fellow, faith!—why, you look the better for being drowned. ’Pon honour, if I were you, I would jump into the Serpentine river once a day.”

“If I could always be sure of such good friends to pull me out,” said Hervey.—“Pray, St. George, by-the-bye, what were you, and Rochfort, and Sir Philip, and all the rest of my friends doing, whilst I was drowning?”

“I can’t say particularly, upon my soul,” replied Mr. St. George; “for my own part, I was in boots, so you know I was out of the question. But what signifies all that now? Come, come, we had best think of looking after our dinners.”

Clarence Hervey, who had very quick feelings, was extremely hurt by the indifference which his dear friends had shown when his life was in danger: he was apt to believe that he was really an object of affection and admiration amongst his companions; and that though they were neither very wise, nor very witty, they were certainly very good-natured. When they had forfeited, by their late conduct, these claims to his regard, his partiality for them was changed into contempt.