She could have slapped Rose for appearing so reserved and cold.

She hugged Rose, as to hug oblivion of the last few minutes into her.

The girl leant her cheek, and bore the embrace, looking on her with a kind of wonder.
Only when alone with the Count, in the brewer's carriage awaiting her on shore, did the lady give a natural course to her grief; well knowing that her Silva would attribute it to the darkness of their common exile.

She wept: but in the excess of her misery, two words of strangely opposite signification, pronounced by Mr.Goren; two words that were at once poison and antidote, sang in her brain; two words that painted her dead father from head to foot, his nature and his fortune: these were the Shop, and the Uniform.
Oh! what would she not have given to have-seen and bestowed on her beloved father one last kiss! Oh! how she hoped that her inspired echo of Uniform, on board the Jocasta, had drowned the memory, eclipsed the meaning, of that fatal utterance of Shop!.