L'amitie’ disparait où légalité cesse. Matilda had reason soon to acknowledge the truth of this remark. There was too little real sympathy between the feelings of a coquette and fine lady of eight-and-thirty, and an innocent, unconscious charmer of eighteen, to allow the name of friendship to be given to their now habitual intercourse. With the young ladies whom she met occasionally at the house, she found it equally difficult to form a pleasing intimacy. In default of the fashionables to whom Lord Torrendale had, in a manner, forbidden the house, her Ladyship was obliged to content herself with a set of second-rate, well-meaning damsels (the best the country afforded) who found no other consolation for their own mediocrity, than in setting themselves violently against every thing that presumed to rise, though in the smallest degree, above their most moderate standard of excellence. The dazzling effect produced by Matilda's appearance among them was over; and now, one ventured to hint a fault; another, to whisper a mistake, secure of its being received, if not with an approving smile, at least without any violent expression of indignation on the part of the Countess. Of such cabals Matilda felt the oppressive influence, without being able exactly to define in what it consisted.

Conscious of no intentional impropriety, she had entered life, expecting to find, in society, that openness, that mutual confidence and simplicity, which form the charm of domestic intercourse. To keep a constant / guard upon her looks and words, to check the exalted sentiment, to curb the spontaneous burst of feeling, lest it should encounter the cold sneer, or suppressed smile, with which it was sure to be received by the well-bred circle, was most painful to her.