But had she known that,
for any cognizance they took of its beauty, they might as well have
been fixed on vacancy, she would not have pulled down the window, and
reseated herself with such an air of triumph.
The count took his seat with a sigh, and Lady Tinemouth did the same.
"So that is the son of Sir Robert Somerset?"
"Yes," replied Lady Sara; "and what does your ladyship think of him?
He is called very handsome."
"You forget that I am near-sighted," answered the countess; "I could
not discriminate his features, but I think his figure fine. I
remember his father was a singularly-admired man, and celebrated for
taste and talents."
"That may be," resumed Lady Sara, laughing, and anxious to excite
some emotion of rivalry in the breast of Thaddeus. "I am sure I ought
not to call in question his talents and taste, for he has often
wished that fate had reserved me for his son." She sighed while she
spoke, and looked down.
This sigh and gesture had more effect upon her victim than all her
exhibited personal charms. So difficult is it to break the cords of
affection and habit. Anything relating to Pembroke Somerset could yet
so powerfully interest the desolate yet generous Sobieski, as to
stamp itself on his features. Besides, the appearance of any latent
disquietude, where all seemed splendor and vivacity, painfully
reminded him of the checkered lot of man.
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