cravat with the air of a _petit-maitre_.

"What a wit the Count has!" whispered the Duchess of Lackland, who had
not yet given up all hope of the elder brother.

"Wit!" said the Lady Hasselton; "poor child, he is a perfect simpleton!"

CHAPTER XV.

THE MOTHER AND SON.--VIRTUE SHOULD BE THE SOVEREIGN OF THE FEELINGS, NOT
THEIR DESTROYER.

I TOOK the first opportunity to escape from the good company who were so
divided in opinion as to my mental accomplishments, and repaired to
my mother; for whom, despite of her evenness of disposition, verging
towards insensibility, I felt a powerful and ineffaceable affection.
Indeed, if purity of life, rectitude of intentions, and fervour of piety
can win love, none ever deserved it more than she. It was a pity that,
with such admirable qualities, she had not more diligently cultivated
her affections. The seed was not wanting; but it had been neglected.
Originally intended for the veil, she had been taught, early in life,
that much feeling was synonymous with much sin; and she had so long and
so carefully repressed in her heart every attempt of the forbidden fruit
to put forth a single blossom, that the soil seemed at last to have
become incapable of bearing it. If, in one corner of this barren but
sacred spot, some green and tender verdure of affection did exist,
it was, with a partial and petty reserve for my twin-brother, kept
exclusive, and consecrated to Aubrey. His congenial habits of pious
silence and rigid devotion; his softness of temper; his utter freedom
from all boyish excesses, joined to his almost angelic beauty,--a
quality which, in no female heart, is ever without its value,--were
exactly calculated to attract her sympathy, and work themselves into her
love. Gerald was also regular in his habits, attentive to devotion,
and had, from an early period, been high in the favour of her spiritual
director. Gerald, too, if he had not the delicate and dream-like beauty
of Aubrey, possessed attractions of a more masculine and decided order;
and for Gerald, therefore, the Countess gave the little of love that
she could spare from Aubrey. To me she manifested the most utter
indifference. My difficult and fastidious temper; my sarcastic turn of
mind; my violent and headstrong passions; my daring, reckless and, when
roused, almost ferocious nature,--all, especially, revolted the even
and polished and quiescent character of my maternal parent. The little
extravagances of my