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 an inexplicable delight to her depraved imagination.

While she was thus indulging her disgraceful inclinations, her heart became attached with all her characteristic violence to Lord Dartford, a young English nobleman, who had accompanied the Countess of Glenarvon to Naples, and who, after passing some months in her society, had already made her the offer of his hand. He no sooner, however, beheld Lady Margaret than he left that object of his first attachment; and the short-lived happiness of guilty passion was thus enhanced by a momentary triumph over a beautiful and unfortunate rival.—Lady Glenarvon lived not to lament it: the blow which was given by the hand she loved, went straight as it was aimed; it pierced her heart; she did not long survive.

Her son, already advancing towards manhood, she committed to the care of