"'Yes! from the celebrated Mrs. W----, the modern dealer in art magic,'
said I, laughing, 'for, now I guess whereabouts I am. Colonel Lawless's
laugh broke the spell. Harriot Freke, never whilst you live expect to
succeed in _the sublime_.' Harriot swore at the colonel for the veriest
_spoil-sport_ she had ever seen, and she whispered to me--'The reason he
laughs is because he is afraid of our suspecting the truth of him, that he
believes _tout de bon_ in conjuration, and the devil, and all that.' The
old woman, whose cue I found was to be dumb, opened a door at the top of a
narrow staircase, and pointing to a tall figure, completely enveloped in
fur, left us to our fate. I will not trouble you with a pompous
description of all the mummery of the scene, my dear, as I despair of
being able to frighten you out of your wits. I should have been downright
angry with Harriot Freke for bringing me to such a place, but that I knew
women of the first fashion had been with Mrs. W---- before us--some in
sober sadness, some by way of frolic. So as there was no fear of being
ridiculous, there was no shame, you know, and my conscience was quite at
ease. Harriot had no conscience, so she was always at ease; and never more
so than in male attire, which she had been told became her particularly.
She supported the character of a young rake with such spirit and _truth_,
that I am sure no common conjuror could have discovered any thing feminine
about her. She rattled on with a set of nonsensical questions; and among
other things she asked, 'How soon will Lady Delacour marry again after her
lord's death?'

"'She will never marry after her lord's death,' answered the oracle. 'Then
she will marry during his lifetime,' said Harriot. 'True,' answered the
oracle. Colonel Lawless laughed; I was angry; and the colonel would have
been quiet, for he was a gentleman, but there was no such thing as
managing Mrs. Freke, who, though she had laid aside the modesty of her own