In the morning, as they were riding away from Tusculum and talking over
their visit, the officers laughed heartily, and rallying Lord Colambre
upon his seriousness, accused him of having fallen in love with Mrs.
Raffarty, or with the ELEGANT Miss Juliana. Our hero, who wished never
to be nice overmuch, or serious out of season, laughed with those that
laughed, and endeavoured to catch the spirit of the jest. But Sir James
Brooke, who now was well acquainted with his countenance, and who knew
something of the history of his family, understood his real feelings,
and, sympathising in them, endeavoured to give the conversation a new
turn.
'Look there, Bowles,' said he, as they were just riding into the town
of Bray; 'look at the barouche, standing at that green door, at the
farthest end of the town. Is not that Lady Dashfort's barouche?'
'It looks like what she sported in Dublin last year,' said Bowles; 'but
you don't think she'd give us the same two seasons? Besides, she is not
in Ireland, is she? I did not hear of her intending to come over again.'
'I beg your pardon,' said another officer; 'she will come again to so
good a market, to marry her other daughter.
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