At the hotel where Mr Primrose had taken up his residence, he remained with his daughter for two or three weeks. Penelope and her father were during this time in daily expectation of seeing or hearing from Robert Darnley, but there came no letter, there came no visitor. Mr Primrose grew impatient, and talked to his daughter about writing. That Penelope should write was quite out of the question, nor could the young lady bring herself readily to allow her father to write.

They both agreed that, if the young man was still seriously attached, he would find some way of communicating with them now all parties were together in England. And so he certainly would have done, had it not been for the false report carried to Neverden by the loyal and religious Zephaniah Pringle, and corroborated by the almost unanimous and universal talk of the people of that village. Influenced by this tale, he remained at Neverden spending day after day in most clumsily doing nothing at all. His father talked to him, his mother talked to him, and his sisters talked to him, but all their talk amounted to nothing. Disappointed affection is a painful feeling, and talking cannot heal it; nor was it ever known in the course of human experience, that calling a man a fool has been the means of making him wise.

Whatever were the feelings of Robert Darnley on this sad blight of his fair hopes, he was wise enough to keep them to himself; he was indeed dull and listless, but he did not annoy others any farther than thus negatively. On the other hand, the Right Honorable Lord Spoonbill had no sooner accomplished the mighty feat of telling Miss Primrose how devoted he was to her, than he must needs again invade the luxurious and lounging solitude of his friend Erpingham in order again to talk over the subject. His lordship did not indeed on the very day after, but at as short an interval as possible consistent with other engagements, call upon his luxurious friend to enjoy the pleasure of talking about Miss Primrose.

Now Erpingham, as we have already intimated, was by no means a simpleton. He had wisdom enough to see through Lord Spoonbill, though his lordship was not always able to comprehend the logic of his old college companion. There is at Cambridge, as everybody knows, a species of animal called a tuft-hunter, that is, a plebeian man, who, for pence or pride, cultivates an acquaintance with the young green shoots of nobility that are sent to that place to learn horse-racing, card-playing, and mathematics, in order to make laws to preserve game and keep up the dignity of hereditary legislators. Now Erpingham was not one of that description. But there are, among the unfledged lordlings who honor that town and university with their superfine presence, some few individuals who, in order to enjoy a stronger sense and feeling of their own noble rank and exalted condition, seek for acquaintance among the untitled. Of this class was Lord Spoonbill, and his acquaintance thus and there formed, was Mr Erpingham.

To seek an acquaintance with any individual is generally felt, whether it be so considered or not, as an act of humiliation. It is at all events a homage paid to the acquaintance thus sought. He that voluntarily seeks after another, involuntarily pays that other a compliment. And frequently that compliment is taken by those who receive it for more than it is really worth. By this circumstance therefore that the acquaintance with Erpingham had been of Lord Spoonbill’s own seeking, the former did not quite so highly value and honor the young legislator as otherwise he might have done. And when once we can thoroughly and heartily take it into our heads that any man is a fool, it is no difficult matter to convince ourselves that he really is so. Plenty of illustrations are always at hand, if we be intimate with the person in question.

Now, in spite of all the reverence which Mr Erpingham felt for high rank, he could not help thinking that his lordship was no conjuror. Indeed it is no more to be wished than it is to be expected that the House of Lords should be all conjurors. As therefore Mr Erpingham thought but indifferently of the understanding of his right honorable friend, it is not to be wondered at that Lord Spoonbill should not always be treated with the most profound respect. At Cambridge, indeed, Erpingham thought it something of an honor to be acquainted with a nobleman; but by degrees, and especially after leaving the university, the gentleman thought otherwise, and diminished much of the homage which he had formerly paid to that right honorable hereditary pillar of the Protestant succession.

When therefore Lord Spoonbill made his appearance again, and threatened a tedious lack-a-daisical prating about love, Mr Erpingham almost laughed at him.

“Well, Spoonbill,” said the Epicurean, “and so you are coming to report progress. And what says this paragon of wit and beauty? I suppose you have made your arrangements: and am I to be honored by an introduction?”

Lord Spoonbill shook his head, and went on tediously to relate all the particulars of the journey to London and the introduction to Mr Primrose. To all this Mr Erpingham listened very attentively; and, when the narrative was concluded, he drawled out, “Well, Spoonbill, and what then?”

To that question the hereditary legislator made no direct or intelligible reply. His friend therefore repeated his question, adding: “Were you content with making a mere sentimental speech about your devotion to this young lady? And did not you give the slightest intimation of your designs?”

“How could I,” replied his lordship, “under these circumstances?”

“Then I will tell you, my good friend, that I have done more for you than you have done for yourself.”

Lord Spoonbill started and stared, and exclaimed: “Erpingham! what do you mean?”

“I mean what I say. Do you know Zephaniah Pringle, a literary prig, with whose vanity I sometimes amuse myself?”

“Certainly I do,” replied his lordship; “but what can he have to do with this matter?”

“A great deal,” replied Erpingham; “he is, as I suppose you know, an impertinent chatter-box, and whatever is trusted to him as a profound secret is sure to be known to all the world; so I communicated to him that Miss Primrose was in the high road to be placed under the protection of the Right Honorable Lord Spoonbill, and by this time Smatterton and its adjoining village is already in possession of the important secret.”

On hearing this, Lord Spoonbill started, as if with a strong sense of moral indignation, and exclaimed: “Erpingham, are you mad? What could you mean by circulating such a report? Suppose I should intend to marry Miss Primrose!”

“Why, then you are less likely to have a rival.”

Although Lord Spoonbill was quite as profligate and unprincipled as Mr Erpingham, yet as his profligacy and want of principle were not managed and directed precisely after the model of the same vices in the conduct of his friend, his lordship took credit to himself that he could enjoy the pleasure of reproving the vicious principles of this Epicurean. But though he expressed a feeling of indignation at the cool, deliberate viciousness of this son of luxury and sensuality, he felt no little satisfaction in the thought that this report must infallibly reach the ears of Mr Robert Darnley, and thus prevent any further attempt on his part to renew the acquaintance with Penelope.

It may seem rather strange to some part of our readers, that a man who could descend to the meanness of intercepting letters, should lift up his voice and turn up his eyes at the sin of circulating false reports touching the character and situation of a young woman, and that this same man should deliberately meditate on schemes for placing that young woman in that situation which he professed to think so degrading. But there is a wonderful difference in the apprehension which men entertain of the same vices under different circumstances. There is also observable in the feelings of Lord Spoonbill, on the present occasion, the readiness and satisfaction with which a man will cheerfully avail himself of the benefits derivable from the vicious or unprincipled conduct of others.

The Right Honorable Lord Spoonbill seemed to think that his friend Erpingham had behaved very unhandsomely and disrespectfully to Penelope by causing such a rumour to get into circulation; but, when it occurred to him that some advantage might be taken of the said rumour, his indignation was abated, and all his reproof was softened down into merely saying:

“Really, Erpingham, you are too bad.”

Everybody who is worse than ourselves is too bad; everybody, whose vices differ from ours, is too bad. Lord Spoonbill was selfish, sensual, and unprincipled; but he endeavoured to conceal his character, and, from attempting to deceive others, had come at last to deceive himself; and he really did flatter himself that there was some good in his character, and some good feelings in his heart. But Erpingham, on the other hand, did not play the hypocrite either to himself or to others; he was definite and decided, and he took to himself some little credit for the unblushing honesty of his conduct and character. He smiled contemptuously at the meanness and littleness of his friend Spoonbill’s vices; but this meanness was essential to the very existence of his vices, he would have been frightened at himself had he seen his own moral features without a mask.

There was this difference in the character of these two friends, that had Erpingham had the same object in view as Lord Spoonbill, he would have pursued it unblushingly, unhesitatingly, and without remorse. He would have intercepted letters, but he would not have shuddered when he had them in his possession; nor would he have hesitated to open them, if that would have forwarded his schemes. There would have been no demur or doubt, but everything would have been rendered subservient to his villanous purposes. But Lord Spoonbill was not so straitforward in his roguery, he was a more pusillanimous profligate. The difference between the two is, that Erpingham was an object of indignation, and Lord Spoonbill of contempt.

Seeing therefore how matters now stood, the Right Honorable Lord Spoonbill thought that he might as well pursue his first object with regard to Penelope, and not, at least for the present, think or say a word concerning marriage. And it was a great consolation to him in the course of his meditations to think how much more unprincipled Erpingham was than he.

From a long, and to the Epicurean a wearying discussion, Lord Spoonbill returned to his home; and on his return he found that the Countess was quite angry, and that her patience was exhausted in waiting for Penelope’s return. The young lady had indeed mentioned the subject to her father, but he did not think any further acknowledgments necessary than he had already personally made to the heir of the house of Smatterton. Nor could Mr Primrose persuade himself that any very high tribute of gratitude was due for that species of patronage which the Countess of Smatterton had proposed for his daughter. It was his feeling, that her ladyship had in view her own gratification quite as much as the welfare of Penelope.

When therefore Lord Spoonbill found that the Countess was still expecting either the return of Miss Primrose, or some grateful intimation that the proffered patronage was declined, he thought it an excellent opportunity to propose a call on Mr Primrose; and, after some of the usual prate about condescension and dignity, the young lord, on the following morning, rode up to town.