"Good bye to you, Anne, and take care of your young mistress at
Buxton: let me see her blooming when we meet again; I don't half like
her looks, and I never thought Buxton agreed with her."

"Buxton never did any body harm," said Lady Clonbrony: "and as
to bloom, I'm sure, if Grace has not bloom enough in her cheeks
this moment to please you, I don't know what you'd have, my dear
lord--Rouge?--Shut the door, John! Oh, stay!--Colambre!--Where upon
earth's Colambre?" cried her ladyship, stretching from the farthest
side of the coach to the window.--"Colambre!"

Colambre was forced to appear.

"Colambre, my dear! I forgot to say, that, if any thing detains you
longer than Wednesday se'nnight, I beg you will not fail to write, or
I shall be miserable."

"I will write: at all events, my dearest mother, you shall hear from
me."

"Then I shall be quite happy. Go on!"

The carriage drove on.

"I do believe Colambre's ill: I never saw a man look so ill in my
life--did you, Grace?--as he did the minute we drove on. He should
take advice. I've a mind," cried Lady Clonbrony, laying her hand on
the cord, to stop the coachman, "I've a mind to turn about--tell him
so--and ask what is the matter with him."