When the Earl of Trimmerstone and his good friend, Mr. Singleton Sloper, arrived at the house of the former, his lordship ushered his friend into his own apartment, and requested him to be seated. Sloper thought that the Earl had locked the door; but in that suspicion he was wrong: the thought, however, staggered and perplexed him. With as much indifference as he could assume, his lordship said:—

“Sloper, do you know any thing of that young man that we lost our money to last night? I am of opinion that he is not quite so young and inexperienced as you imagined him to be. How came you acquainted with him?”

His lordship watched Sloper’s countenance very narrowly, while he replied:

“He was introduced to me by that Tippetson, who is paying court to Mr. Martindale’s foreign grand-daughter. I was as much deceived in him as you were. Tippetson told me that he was quite young, and had just stepped into a very pretty fortune, and that he seemed very well disposed to enter into gaiety.”

There was very little hesitation in the manner in which Sloper made this reply, and no inference could be drawn from it. But Lord Trimmerstone saw that there was an unusual awkwardness of manner about his friend, so that his suspicions continued unabated though unconfirmed. With a view therefore of probing him, his lordship said, with more significance of expression than he had adopted before:—

“Have you no suspicion that this very young gentleman has a partner rather older than himself?”

No immediate answer was given to this inquiry; and Lord Trimmerstone, after proposing the question, kept his eyes firmly fixed on his friend with a most searching and almost threatening expression. Sloper looked pale, and was angry, and rose from his seat with great indignation, replying:

“Do you mean to insinuate, by that question, any thing dishonorable against me, my lord? I really do not understand your question. What am I to know about his partners?”

This was quite enough to satisfy his lordship that there was some ground for his suspicions; and feeling therefore indignant at the treachery of his pretended friend, he returned with considerable warmth, almost with violence:

“I do mean to insinuate something dishonorable against you; I mean to say that you have now in your possession damning proofs of your guilt and your meanness. Clear yourself if you can.”

With a contemptuous sneer, Mr. Singleton Sloper replied: “Upon my word, I shall not take the trouble to argue with a madman. I must leave you, my lord, for the present; we shall meet again shortly, and then I will give you or you shall give me satisfaction.”

“You shall not leave this apartment, sir, till I have satisfied myself of the extent of your treachery. You have conspired with that young thief to defraud me, and I saw you divide the plunder; you have my note now in your possession.”

Mr. Singleton Sloper had not much of a character to lose, but what little he had he was desirous of preserving. Seeing that Lord Trimmerstone was resolute, and knowing that his own case was really a bad one, he endeavoured to soften matters down as well as he could; and with that cowardice which continually attends guilt, he pleaded guilty to the accusation, and urged his own necessity as a plea. Lord Trimmerstone should have spurned such a caitiff from him with contempt; but Lord Trimmerstone recollected that his own dear character was as much implicated as that of his friend, Mr. Singleton Sloper: they were, in fact, in each other’s power. Then did his lordship gradually descend from his high and towering attitude, and feel that he himself was but one degree more respectable than that very Sloper against whom he was beginning to launch the bolts of his mighty indignation, and the shafts of his withering contempt.

Now there was this difference between the Earl of Trimmerstone and Mr. Singleton Sloper: to wit, that the first-mentioned personage had been led rather by what he considered fashion or fashionable practice from one degree of foolery to another; but the latter was habitually and constitutionally of low and mean habits. Lord Trimmerstone was not essentially and constitutionally of low habits, but he had been by various circumstances drawn into the vortex. He was a careless rather than a weak man, and he had fallen into bad hands. Singleton Sloper was what may be designated a moral sloven, a man of no mind, and of little feeling; incapable of any thing great or good; one of the condescending among the patricians, and never stooping but to something that was low. These two personages were on the whole well met. The difference certainly was in favor of his lordship, but the difference was not great. His lordship felt this in their rising quarrel, and was therefore under the necessity of bearing patiently that which otherwise he must have resented indignantly.

When this explanation was entered into, if explanation it may be called, the two friends looked at one another like a couple of fools, or perhaps to speak more properly, like a couple of knaves. The Right. Hon. the Earl of Trimmerstone was so exceedingly out of humor with himself, that he scarcely knew how to act or what to say. He was going to say, “Sloper, I can never trust you again.” But upon second thoughts he considered that Sloper was really no worse than he had previously known him to be. He was tempted to call Sloper a knave; but he recollected that he himself was as great a knave. He was tempted to think that he would discontinue all intimacy with a man who had thus, as he called it, defrauded him; but he recollected that Singleton Sloper had been serviceable to him, and might be again; and he thought it better to depend on a rogue that he did know, than to run the risk of relying on a rogue that he did not know.

It might not be at this juncture that his lordship’s character received the deepest stain of degradation; but it was at this period, and by this circumstance, that his lordship was brought to feel how very low he had sunk in the scale of moral worth. Then did he again and more deeply than ever regret that the days of his independence were passed away, and that he had sacrificed for the sake of honors which were no honor to him, that composure of mind and that independence of spirit which had in early life been his portion and blessing. He became very low-spirited, and almost morose. His appetite for pleasure was greatly abated. He no longer considered the turf and the betting-table the true and supreme enjoyment of life, or the dignified enjoyment of rank and fortune.

Many days passed away in a state of nervous depression bordering on insanity; and had he in this period laid violent hands on himself, there would have been quite sufficient evidence to convince a coroner’s jury that a verdict of insanity should be brought in.

Coroner’s juries have a very ingenious mode of reasoning on this subject. Thus may the argument be stated: If a poor, pennyless, friendless outcast of society, broken down by calamity, and having no resource whereby to mend his fortunes, or to better his condition, does through an absolute weariness of life lay hands on himself, and thus commit the sin of suicide, he acts from an apparently sufficient motive; and he could not have been insane, inasmuch as it is considered that no man in his senses could desire the continuance of such a life. But if a person of rank or fortune who may live sumptuously every day, or any one even in actual and personal distress from reduced circumstances, but yet having friends or relatives by whose wealth his poverty may be relieved, and at whose table he may, if he pleases, yet enjoy life’s luxuries, should, notwithstanding all that he does or may possess or enjoy, destroy himself, surely he must be insane: for who but a madman would throw away a life which could possibly be enjoyed? This is an invariable and infallible rule.

That period of Lord Trimmerstone’s life and experience at which we are now arrived, was indeed to himself a season of very great interest and emotion; but could not be so rendered to our readers without a very long, and to some perhaps, a very tedious analysis of human feelings; and as our business is more with facts than philosophies, we must pass very briefly over this period; not endeavouring to portray his lordship’s state of mind, but contenting ourselves with narrating the facts to which these feelings led.

Being upon reflection convinced of the meanness and littleness of those pursuits in which he had been engaged, and finding that there was not in his honors that enjoyment and satisfaction which he had anticipated from them, he seriously resolved that he would no longer expose himself to those mortifications which had of late gathered so thick upon him. He made up his mind that he would give up his establishment in town; that he would dispose of his horses, and retire to Trimmerstone, to enjoy, if possible, the quiet comforts of domestic life. But when he thought of domestic life, he could not help also thinking how ill-adapted was his Countess for a life of that description. He had taken but little notice of her or her proceedings, and often, while he had been spending the night at the hazard-table, her rooms had been lighted up for the reception and entertainment of such guests as she could procure. In a large party, and in the display of finery, the Countess had her happiness. The proposal therefore to her of removal from town and of quiet domestic life in the country, especially such a dull place as Trimmerstone, came very mournfully to her ears, and she would fain have expostulated and demurred. But his lordship, now he had grown wiser, had become rather sulky and obstinate; that good-humor for which he had formerly been remarkable was considerably abated; and his Countess perceived the change with a feeling of concern and uneasiness.

The Countess, as our readers may probably have discovered, was a thoughtless, unreflecting, though good-humored woman; very fond was she of gaiety, mistaking, as many vulgar fine folks do, gaiety for greatness, and fancying that the most magnificent entertainments were the chief good of life. Her ladyship’s taste was rather more vulgar than usually happens in that class of society from whence she had her origin; and as the exclusives were not well pleased with her birth, they could easily apologise for their neglect of her on account of her manners. In spite, however, of all the indifference of what is called the fashionable world, she contrived to live a life of no little gaiety. Such companions and intimates as she honored with her acquaintance were not the best adapted to prepare her mind for retirement. Mr. Tippetson, so far as reflection or intellectual digestion was concerned, had not a single idea in his head. He had by no means any capacity either for thinking or exciting thought in others; but in common-place he was perfect.

Dr. Crack was also another intimate of the Countess. He at least thought that he thought; and his ambition was to unite the philosopher with the man of fashion; which very ambition was proof positive that he never thought to any good purpose. He had endeavoured by various theories to immortalise himself; but, unfortunately, he was so conscientious, that he suffered facts to overturn his theories, and so none of them lasted long enough to establish his reputation. He also was very powerful in common-place, but nothing equal to Mr. Tippetson. His style of talk was very magnificent, so much so that the Countess of Trimmerstone could not always understand his fine words and his long elaborate sentences. This is not said by way of depreciating the understanding of her ladyship; for many minds of a much higher order than hers would have found quite as great difficulty in comprehending the meaning of many of Dr. Crack’s prodigiously wise speeches.

It may readily be imagined that a lady of rank whose most intimate acquaintants were such as Mr. Tippetson and Dr. Crack, could not have much relish for a life of retirement, wherein her enjoyments must be of her own procuring, and must have their seat in the mind. When, therefore, his lordship mentioned the topic of retirement, it by no means met with her ladyship’s approbation. She laughed at his lordship’s gravity. That was bad policy; for laughing at gravity only makes it worse. By this mode of treating her lord’s humors, the Countess made him angry and positive; then he insisted and commanded; and then, in the wantonness of resistance and the impotence of opposition, her ladyship refused to obey. That was very great folly; because she could not help herself, and obey she must. Then his lordship was more positive and more angry; then her ladyship was more vexed, and burst into a flood of tears. This last expression seems to us a very foolish one, and an absolute contradiction; but it sounds very fine, and is generally understood in England; and is much more eloquent than simply saying that her ladyship cried, or wept, or shed tears. Her ladyship also would have gone into hysterics; but that part of her education had been sadly neglected, therefore she could only cry and be sulky.

His lordship, however, was very positive; and in that positive humor did he depart from his home, and direct his steps to the house of his troublesome but indispensable relative, Mr. Martindale. At that house Mr. Henry Augustus Tippetson was at that moment paying his most gracious attention to Clara; and the poor girl was listening with all the complacency of indifference to his silly prate concerning last night’s opera. Mr. Tippetson had just persuaded the young lady to indulge him so far as to permit him to hear one of Rossini’s airs on the piano-forte; and the first bar was hardly finished, when the arrival of the Earl of Trimmerstone was announced.

This announcement was an interruption more agreeable to Clara than to Mr. Tippetson, for the young lady was not in spirits; and to a dejected mind, sounds of joy are a sad and painful discord. But though Mr. Tippetson was sorry to be deprived of the pleasure of hearing the promised performance, he speedily took his leave of Clara, expressing a hope that he should enjoy that pleasure another day; and he left the room as soon as his lordship made his appearance.