"Mr. Cashel Byron: Miss Carew."
Mr. Cashel Byron raised his straw hat and reddened a little; but, on
the whole, bore himself like an eminent man who was not proud. As,
however, he seemed to have nothing to say for himself, Lord
Worthington hastened to avert silence by resuming the subject of
Ascot. Lydia listened to him, and looked at her new acquaintance.
Now that the constraint of society had banished his former
expression of easy good-humor, there was something formidable in him
that gave her an unaccountable thrill of pleasure. The same
impression of latent danger had occurred, less agreeably, to Lucian,
who was affected much as he might have been by the proximity of a
large dog of doubtful temper. Lydia thought that Mr. Byron did not,
at first sight, like her cousin; for he was looking at him
obliquely, as though steadily measuring him.
The group was broken up by the guard admonishing the gentlemen to
take their seats. Farewells were exchanged; and Lord Worthington
cried, "Take care of yourself," to Cashel Byron, who replied
somewhat impatiently, and with an apprehensive glance at Miss Carew,
"All right! all right! Never you fear, sir." Then the train went
off, and he was left on the platform with the two ladies.
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