“The world will never reform,” said the bishop: “all our labour, my friend, is thrown away.”
“But is it possible,” cried the dean, “that any one has dared to say this of you?”
“Here it is in print,” said she, holding out a newspaper.
The dean read the paragraph, and then exclaimed, “I can forgive a falsehood spoken—the warmth of conversation may excuse it—but to write and print an untruth is unpardonable, and I will prosecute this publisher.”
“Still the falsehood will go down to posterity,” said Lady Clementina; “and after ages will think I was a gambler.”
“Comfort yourself, dear madam,” said young Henry, wishing to console her: “perhaps after ages may not hear of you; nor even the present age think much about you.”
The bishop now exclaimed, after having taken the paper from the dean, and read the paragraph, “It is a libel, a rank libel, and the author must be punished.”
“Not only the author, but the publisher,” said the dean.
“Not only the publisher, but the printer,” continued the bishop.
“And must my name be bandied about by lawyers in a common court of justice?” cried Lady Clementina. “How shocking to my delicacy!”