false pretensions ought at least to support them!"

"I do not understand you, my lord," said Clarence.

"Possibly not," answered Borodaile, carelessly: "there is a maxim
which says that people not accustomed to speak truth cannot comprehend
it in others."

Unlike the generality of modern heroes, who are always in a passion,--
off-hand, dashing fellows, in whom irascibility is a virtue,--Clarence
was peculiarly sweet-tempered by nature, and had, by habit, acquired a
command over all his passions to a degree very uncommon in so young a
man. He made no reply to the inexcusable affront he had received.
His lip quivered a little, and the flush of his countenance was
succeeded by an extreme paleness; this was all: he did not even leave
the room immediately, but waited till the silence was broken by some
well-bred member of the party; and then, pleading an early engagement
as an excuse for his retiring so soon, he rose and departed.

There was throughout the room a universal feeling of sympathy with the
affront and indignation against the offender; for, to say nothing of
Clarence's popularity and the extreme dislike in which Lord Borodaile
was held, there could be no doubt as to the wantonness of the outrage
or the moderation of the aggrieved party. Lord Borodaile already felt
the punishment of his offence: his very pride, while it rendered him
indifferent to the spirit, had hitherto kept him scrupulous as to the
formalities of social politeness; and he could not but see the
grossness with which he had suffered himself to violate them and the
light in which his conduct was regarded. However, this internal
discomfort only rendered him the more embittered against Clarence and