Coffee is handed. The ladies，since the gentlemen entered，have bee lively as larks; conversation waxes brisk and merry. Colonel Dent and Mr. Eshton argue on politics; their wives listen. The two proud dowagers，Lady Lynn and Lady Ingram，confabulate together. Sir George- whom，by the bye，I have forgotten to describe,- a very big，and very fresh-looking country gentleman，stands before their sofa，coffee-cup in hand，and occasionally puts in a word. Mr. Frederick Lynn has taken a seat beside Mary Ingram，and is showing her the engravings of a splendid volume: she looks，smiles now and then，but apparently says little. The tall and phlegmatic Lord Ingram leans with folded arms on the chair-back of the little and lively Amy Eshton; she glances up at him，and chatters like a wren: she likes him better than she does Mr. Rochester. Henry Lynn has taken possession of an ottoman at the feet of Louisa: Adele shares it with him: he is trying to talk French with her，and Louisa laughs at his blunders.