Meredith Vyner joined them.
"We are discussing the old subject, Hester Mason," said Mrs. St. John.
"And giving her all the virtues under the sun, poetry included," said Vyner. "Well, you have chosen a good subject. We don't often meet with such a paragon. Where, indeed, in this prosaic place should we look for such another
Cui Pudor, et Justitiæ soro
Incorrupta Fides, nudaque Veritas,
Quando ullum inveniet parem?
"By the irony of your tone," said Mrs. St. John, "I suspect you have heard something new about her."
"No, nothing new; at least nothing unexpected."
"What is it? Pray, let us hear it."
"The most natural thing in the world she last night went off with Sir Chetsom Chetsom. Interdum deliramus senes, as Plautus saith."
This information was received in silence. Mrs. St. John coloured deeply, and then turned pale. She was greatly hurt, because she considered herself in some measure the cause of this misfortune, by having first brought Hester into notice, and then having introduced her to Sir Chetsom.
It was too true. Hester had gone off; and Sir Chetsom had taken good care that it should not be a secret.