which the young ladies of the family had built, and which now fell
to the ground. We pass all the civil speeches of Lord and Lady
Killpatrick; all the vehement remonstrances of Lady Dashfort; and the
vain sighs of Lady Isabel. To the last moment Lady Dashfort said, "He
will not go."

But he went; and, when he was gone, Lady Dashfort exclaimed, "That man
has escaped from me." After a pause, turning to her daughter, she,
in the most taunting and contemptuous terms, reproached her as the
cause of this failure, concluding by a declaration, that she must in
future manage her own affairs, and had best settle her mind to marry
Heathcock, since every one else was too wise to think of her.

Lady Isabel of course retorted. But we leave this amiable mother and
daughter to recriminate in appropriate terms, and we follow our hero,
rejoiced that he has been disentangled from their snares. Those who
have never been in similar peril will wonder much that he did not
escape sooner; those who have ever been in like danger will wonder
more that he escaped at all. They who are best acquainted with the
heart or imagination of man will be most ready to acknowledge that the
combined charms of wit, beauty, and flattery, may, for a time, suspend
the action of right reason in the mind of the greatest philosopher, or
operate against the resolutions of the greatest of heroes.

Lord Colambre pursued his way to Halloran Castle, desirous, before
he quitted this part of the country, to take leave of the count, who
had shown him much civility, and for whose honourable conduct and
generous character he had conceived a high esteem, which no little
peculiarities of antiquated dress or manner could diminish. Indeed,
the old-fashioned politeness of what was formerly called a well-bred