contrary to what was generally believed--she was any thing but the mere
mechanical woman of the world. She possessed great sensibility, and even
romance of temper, strong passions, and still stronger imagination; but
over all these deeper recesses of her character, the extreme softness and
languor of her manners, threw a veil which no superficial observer could
penetrate. There were times when I could believe that she was inwardly
restless and unhappy; but she was too well versed in the arts of
concealment, to suffer such an appearance to be more than momentary.

I must own that I consoled myself very easily for my want, in this
particular instance, of that usual good fortune which attends me aupres
des dames; the fact was, that I had another object in pursuit. All the
men at Sir Lionel Garrett's were keen sportsmen. Now, shooting is an
amusement I was never particularly partial to. I was first disgusted with
that species of rational recreation at a battue, where, instead of
bagging anything, I was nearly bagged, having been inserted, like wine in
an ice pail, in a wet ditch for three hours, during which time my hat had
been twice shot at for a pheasant, and my leather gaiters once for a
hare; and to crown all, when these several mistakes were discovered, my
intended exterminators, instead of apologizing for having shot at me,
were quite disappointed at having missed.

Seriously, that same shooting is a most barbarous amusement, only fit for
majors in the army, and royal dukes, and that sort of people; the mere
walking is bad enough, but embarrassing one's arms moreover, with a gun,
and one's legs with turnip tops, exposing oneself to the mercy of bad
shots and the atrocity of good, seems to me only a state of painful
fatigue, enlivened by the probability of being killed.

This digression is meant to signify, that I never joined the single men