I won't have
Sir Hector Dundas's family disgraced by a daughter of mine."
"For pity's sake, Lady Dundas," said Pembroke, stepping between her
shrewish ladyship and the trembling Euphemia, "do compose yourself. I
dare say your daughter is pardonable. In these cases, the fault in
general lies with our sex. We are the deluders."
Mary was obliged to reseat herself; and in pale attention she
listened for the reply of the affrighted Euphemia, who, half assured
that her whim of creating a mutual passion in the breast of Thaddeus
was no longer tenable, without either shame or remorse she exclaimed,
"Indeed, Mr. Somerset, you are right; I never should have thought of
Mr. Constantine if he had not teased me every time he came with his
devoted love."
Miss Beaufort rose hastily from her chair. Though Euphemia colored at
the suddenness of this motion, and the immediate flash she met from
her eye, she went on: "I know Miss Beaufort will deny it, because she
thinks he is in love with her; but indeed, indeed, he has sworn a
thousand times on his knees that he was a Russian nobleman in
disguise, and adored me above every one else in the world."
"Villain!" cried Pembroke, inflamed with indignation at his double
conduct. Afraid to read in the expressive countenance of Mary her
shame and horror at this discovery, he turned his eyes on her with
trepidation; when, to his surprise, he beheld her standing perfectly
unmoved by the side of the sofa from which she had arisen.
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