A mode of life which encloses in its circle all the dark and deep
results of unbounded indulgence, however it may appear to some who
glance over the sparkling surface, does not exactly seem to us one
either insipid or uninteresting to the moral speculator; and, indeed, we
have long been induced to suspect that the seeds of true sublimity lurk
in a life which, like this book, is half fashion and half passion.
We know not how it was, but about this time an unaccountable, almost
an imperceptible, coolness seemed to spring up between our hero and the
Lady Aphrodite. If we were to puzzle our brains for ever, we could not
give you the reason. Nothing happened, nothing had been said or done,
which could indicate its origin. Perhaps this _was_ the origin; perhaps
the Duke's conduct had become, though unexceptionable, too negative.
But here we only throw up a straw. Perhaps, if we must go on suggesting,
anxiety ends in callousness.
His Grace had thought so much of her feelings, that he had quite
forgotten his own, or worn them out. Her Ladyship, too, was perhaps
a little disappointed at the unexpected reconciliation.
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