She had also, or she now thought it, remarked that when Mr.George had been spoken of casually, the Countess had not looked a natural look.

Perhaps it was her present inflamed fancy.

At any rate the Countess was offensive now.

She was positively vulgar, in consequence, to the mind of Miss Carrington, and Miss Carrington was drawn to think of a certain thing Ferdinand Laxley had said he had heard from the mouth of this lady's brother when ale was in him.

Alas! how one seed of a piece of folly will lurk and sprout to confound us; though, like the cock in the eastern tale, we peck up zealously all but that one! The carriage rolled over the turf, attended by Andrew, and Lady Jocelyn, and the hunt was seen; Mr.George some forty paces a-head; Seymour gaining on him, Rose next.
'Who's that breasting Rose ?' said Lady Jocelyn, lifting her glass.
'My brother-in-law, Harrington,' returned Andrew.
'He doesn't ride badly,' said Lady Jocelyn.