There was something in this picture that keenly touched Lady Marchmont; she, too, brilliant as her lot appeared, had many long and lonely hours—hours that craved for confidence and affection.
"Let us be friends," exclaimed she, with a sweet earnestness; "we shall do each other good. I grow too selfish, living only among the cold, the vain, and the flattering; while you grow too sensitive, living too much amid your fancies and feelings."
Constance answered by taking the hands so frankly offered, and pressing them in her own, while Lady Marchmont continued:—
"I will tell you all my faults frankly beforehand. I am very vain, for I cultivate my vanity on a principle, and cannot understand why we should neglect such a source of gratification. I take all the admiration I can on the same principle that kings take taxes: I look upon it as my right. They will tell you that I am a coquette, but it is not true; I do not care enough about people;
