politics in a thread-bare coat.

About ten minutes before dinner, Lord Darcey joined us, dress'd most
magnificently in a suit of olive velvet, embroider'd with gold;--his
hair without powder, which became him infinitely.--He certainly appear'd
to great advantage:--how could it be otherwise, when in company with
that tawdry, gilded piece of clay?--And to sit by him, of all
things!--One would really think it had been designed:--_some_ exulted,
_some_ look'd mortified at the contrast.--Poor Miss Winter's seat began
to grow very uneasy;--she tried every corner, yet could not vary the
light in which she saw the _two opposites_.--Why did she frown on
_me?_--why cast such contemptuous glances every time I turn'd my eye
towards her?--Did _I_ recommend the daubed coxcomb;--or represent that
her future joys depended on title?--No! it was vanity, the love of
grandeur,--that could make her give up fine sense, fine accomplishments,
a princely address, and all the noble requisites:--yes, my Lady, such a
one, Lord Darcey tells me, she has refused.--Refused, for what? For
folly, a total ignorance in the polite arts, and a meaness of manners
not to be express'd: yet, I dare say, she thinks, the sweet sounds of
_my Lady_, and _your Ladyship_ is _cheaply_ purchased by such a
sacrifice.

When we moved to go into the dining-parlour, Miss Winter bow'd for me to
follow Lady Allen and her mother; which after I had declined, Lady Powis
took me by the hand, and said, smiling, No, Madam, Miss Warley is one of
us.--If _so_, my Lady--and she swam out of the room with an air I shall
never forget.

Lord Darcey took his place at table, next Lord Allen;--I sat opposite,
with Miss Winter on my right, and Lord Baily on my left.--Sorry I was,