She had to enliven his stunned senses, and calm her own. And with
mournful images of her father in her brain, the female Spartan had to
turn to Rose, and speculate on the girl's reflective brows, while she
said, as over a distant relative, sadly, but without distraction:
'A death in the family!' and preserved herself from weeping her heart
out, that none might guess the thing who did not positively know it.
Evan touched the hand of Rose without meeting her eyes. He was soon cast
off in Mr. Goren's boat. Then the Countess murmured final adieux;
twilight under her lids, but yet a smile, stately, affectionate, almost
genial. Rose, her sweet Rose, she must kiss. 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!