The pyramid, in changing places, was overturned.  Then it was that the mistress of the feast, falling back in her seat, and lifting up her hands and eyes in despair, ejaculated, ‘Oh, James!  James!’

The pyramid was raised by the assistance of the military engineers, and stood trembling again on its base; but the lady’s temper could not be so easily restored to its equilibrium.

The comedy of errors, which this day’s visit exhibited, amused all the spectators.  But Lord Colambre, after he had smiled, sometimes sighed.—­Similar foibles and follies in persons of different rank, fortune, and manner, appear to common observers so unlike, that they laugh without scruples of conscience in one case, at what in another ought to touch themselves most nearly.  It was the same desire to appear what they were not, the same vain ambition to vie with superior rank and fortune, or fashion, which actuated Lady Clonbrony and Mrs. Raffarty; and whilst this ridiculous grocer’s wife made herself the sport of some of her guests, Lord Colambre sighed, from the reflection that what she was to them, his mother was to persons in a higher rank of fashion.—­He sighed still more deeply, when he considered, that, in whatever station or with whatever fortune, extravagance, that is the living beyond our income, must lead to distress and meanness, and end in shame and ruin.  In the morning, as they were riding away from Tusculum and talking over their visit, the officers laughed heartily, and rallying Lord Colambre upon his seriousness, accused him of having fallen in love with Mrs. Raffarty, or with the elegant Miss Juliana.  Our hero, who wished never to be nice overmuch, or serious out of season, laughed with those that laughed, and endeavoured to catch the spirit of the jest.  But Sir James Brooke, who now was well acquainted with his countenance, and who knew something of the history of his family, understood his real feelings, and, sympathising in them, endeavoured to give the conversation a new turn.

‘Look there, Bowles,’ said he, as they were just riding into the town of Bray; ’look at the barouche, standing at that green door, at the farthest end of the town.  Is not that Lady Dashfort’s barouche?’

‘It looks like what she sported in Dublin last year,’ said Bowles; ’but you don’t think she’d give us the same two seasons?  Besides, she is not in Ireland, is she?  I did not hear of her intending to come over again.’

‘I beg your pardon,’ said another officer; ’she will come again to so good a market, to marry her other daughter.  I hear she said, or swore, that she will marry the young widow, Lady Isabel, to an Irish nobleman.’

‘Whatever she says, she swears, and whatever she swears, she’ll do,’ replied Bowles.  ’Have a care, my Lord Colambre; if she sets her heart upon you for Lady Isabel, she has you.  Nothing can save you.  Heart she has none, so there you’re safe, my lord,’ said the other officer; ’but if Lady Isabel sets her eye upon you, no basilisk’s is surer.’