Lady Dashfort came up to him as he was standing alone; and, whilst the count and Sir James were settling about the diamonds-- 'My Lord Colambre,' said she, in a low voice, 'I know your thoughts, and I could moralise as well as you, if I did not prefer laughing--you are right enough; and so am I, and so is Isabel; we are all right.

For look here: women have not always the liberty of choice, and therefore they can't be expected to have always the power of refusal.' The mother, satisfied with her convenient optimism, got into her carriage with her daughter, her daughter's diamonds, and her precious son-in-law, her daughter's companion for life.
'The more I see,' said Count O'Halloran to Lord Colambre, as they left the shop, 'the more I find reason to congratulate you upon your escape, my dear lord.' 'I owe it not to my own wit or wisdom,' said Lord Colambre; 'but much to love, and much to friendship,' added he, turning to Sir James Brooke; 'here was the friend who early warned me against the siren's voice; who, before I knew Lady Isabel, told me what I have since found to be true, that, 'Two passions alternately govern her fate-- Her business is love, but her pleasure is hate.' 'That is dreadfully severe, Sir James,' said Count O'Halloran; 'but I am afraid it is just.' 'I am sure it is just, or I would not have said it,' replied Sir James Brooke.

'For the foibles of the sex, I hope, I have as much indulgence as any man, and for the errors of passion as much pity; but I cannot repress the indignation, the abhorrence I feel against women, cold and vain, who use their wit and their charms only to make others miserable.' Lord Colambre recollected at this moment Lady Isabel's look and voice, when she declared that 'she would let her little finger be cut off to purchase the pleasure of inflicting on Lady de Cresey, for one hour, the torture of jealousy.' 'Perhaps,' continued Sir James Brooke, 'now that I am going to marry into an Irish family, I may feel, with peculiar energy, disapprobation of this mother and daughter on another account; but you, Lord Colambre, will do me the justice to recollect that, before I had any personal interest in the country, I expressed, as a general friend to Ireland, antipathy to those who return the hospitality they received from a warm-hearted people, by publicly setting the example of elegant sentimental hypocrisy, or daring disregard of decorum, by privately endeavouring to destroy the domestic peace of families, on which, at last, public as well as private virtue and happiness depend.

I do rejoice, my dear Lord Colambre, to hear you say that I had any share in saving you from the siren; and now, I will never speak of these ladies more.

I am sorry you cannot stay in town to see--but why should I be sorry--we shall meet again, I trust, and I shall introduce you; and you, I hope, will introduce me to a very different charmer.