And the independence of her character was mixed with extraordinary
sweetness of temper. Constance could not be in a passion: it was out of
her nature. If she was stung, she could utter a sarcasm; but she could
not frown or raise her voice. There was that magic in her, that she was
always feminine. She did not stare young men out of countenance; she
never addressed them by their Christian names; she never flirted--never
coquetted: the bloom and flush of modesty was yet all virgin upon her
youth. She, the founder of a new dynasty, avoided what her successors and
contemporaries have deemed it necessary to incur. She was the leader of
fashion; but--it is a miraculous union--she was respectable!

At this period, some new dances were brought into England. These dances
found much favour in the eves of several great ladies young enough to
dance them. They met at each other's houses in the morning to practise
the steps. Among these was Lady Erpingham; her house became the favourite
rendezvous.

The young Marquis of Dartington was one of the little knot. Celebrated
for his great fortune, his personal beauty, and his general success, he
resolved to fall in love with Lady Erpingham. He devoted himself
exclusively to her; he joined her in the morning in her rides--in the
evening in her gaieties. He had fallen in love with her?--yes!--did he
love her?--not the least. But he was excessively idle!--what else could
he do?

Constance early saw the attentions and designs of Lord Dartington. There
is one difficulty in repressing advances in great society--one so easily
becomes ridiculous by being a prude. But Constance dismissed Lord
Dartington with great dexterity. This was the occasion:--