The driver, who was seated on a splendid hammercloth (with the dragons, _vert_, vomiting fire) reined up on perceiving Lord and Lady Rohallion, and the servants at once threw down the steps as their mistress desired to alight. Assisted by her host, she stepped down, a stately woman of a noble presence, considerably older than her friend, Winifred Maxwell, being past her sixtieth year, but still bent on being young despite wrinkles and other little indications of "the enemy." She wore the then fashionable little bonnet of green and blue, or union velvet, as it was named, in honour of Ireland, a large chequered Burdett kerchief over her neck and shoulders, and her whole person was redolent of hair powder and perfume, as her black satin robe swept over the gravel. Her two daughters sprang forth after her, accompanied by the new visitor, (of whom more anon,) all three handsome and lady-like young girls, faultless in symmetry, delicacy, and refinement, and all possessed of considerable beauty, and looking happy, blooming, and smiling, in their Leghorn gipsy hats, which were wreathed with flowers. "Welcome, my dear Lady Eglinton," said Rohallion, bowing like an old-fashioned courtier of Versailles or Holyrood, as he planted his little Nivernois under his left arm, and gave his right hand to the Countess to lead her up the avenue; "unlike your humble servant, egad, madam, you grow younger every day--and then your travelling costume--I vow it is charming." "My lord," said the old lady, smiling, "you are still quite a Lothario, and as complimentary as ever. My girls at least have the latest London fashions, but I prefer the bonnet of 1801, as being more becoming my style--perhaps I should say, my years." We question whether this amiable lady and her daughters in "the latest London fashion," would have been in the mode now, as their narrow skirts made them exactly resemble the figures we see in the little Noah's ark. "And this is Flora Warrender," said Lord Rohallion (after the usual greetings were over), kissing the girl's hand and forehead with kindness and regard; "welcome here, child, for the sake of your father. Many a day Jack Warrender and I have been under fire together, and often we have shared our grog and our biscuit--long before you saw the light, Flora." Her fine eyes filled as the old Lord spoke, and a beautiful expression passed over her soft, fair face. She was in second mourning--muslin with black spots; and her gipsy hat with its crape bows gave her a very picturesque look. She had sandalled shoes on her feet, that, like her hands, were small and very finely shaped. Her ear-rings and bracelets were of brown Tunbridge wood, then the simple fashion when not in full dress. "We have brought a sweet companion for you, Quentin," said Lady Mary, laughing, as she presented both her hands to her young friend; "won't she be quite a little wife for you?" "Mary!" said her mamma, in an admonitory tone.