Lord Colambre was actually sorry when the business was ended--when Mr.

Soho departed--for Miss Nugent was then silent; and it was necessary to remove his eyes from that countenance on which he had gazed un.o.bserved. Beautiful and graceful, yet so unconscious was she of her charms, that the eye of admiration could rest upon her without her perceiving it--she seemed so intent upon others as totally to forget herself. The whole train of Lord Colambre's thoughts was so completely deranged, that, although he was sensible there was something of importance he had to say to his mother, yet when Mr. Soho's departure left him opportunity to speak, he stood silent, unable to recollect any thing but--Grace Nugent.

When Miss Nugent left the room, after some minutes' silence, and some effort, Lord Colambre said to his mother, "Pray, madam, do you know any thing of Sir Terence O'Fay?"

"I!" said Lady Clonbrony, drawing up her head proudly; "I know he is a person I cannot endure. He is no friend of mine, I can a.s.sure you--nor any such sort of person."

"I thought it was impossible!" cried Lord Colambre, with exultation.

"I only wish your father, Colambre, could say as much," added Lady Clonbrony.

Lord Colambre's countenance fell again; and again he was silent for some time.

"Does my father dine at home, ma'am?"

"I suppose not; he seldom dines at home."

"Perhaps, ma'am, my father may have some cause to be uneasy about--"

"About?" said Lady Clonbrony, in a tone, and with a look of curiosity, which convinced her son that she knew nothing of his debts or distresses, if he had any. "About what?" repeated her ladyship.

Here was no receding, and Lord Colambre never had recourse to artifice.

"About his affairs, I was going to say, madam. But, since you know nothing of any difficulties or embarra.s.sments, I am persuaded that none exist."

"Nay, I _cawnt_ tell you that, Colambre. There are difficulties for ready money, I confess, when I ask for it, which surprise me often. I know nothing of affairs--ladies of a certain rank seldom do, you know.

But, considering your father's estate, and the fortune I brought him,"

added her ladyship, proudly, "I _cawnt_ conceive it at all. Grace Nugent, indeed, often talks to me of embarra.s.sments and economy; but that, poor thing! is very natural for her, because her fortune is not particularly large, and she has left it all, or almost all, in her uncle and guardian's hands. I know she's often distressed for odd money to lend me, and that makes her anxious."

"Is not Miss Nugent very much admired, ma'am, in London?"

"Of course--in the company she is in, you know, she has every advantage. And she has a natural family air of fashion--Not but what she would have _got on_ much better, if, when she first appeared in Lon'on, she had taken my advice, and wrote herself on her cards Miss de Nogent, which would have taken off the prejudice against the _Iricism_ of Nugent, you know; and there is a Count de Nogent."

"I did not know there was any such prejudice, ma'am. There may be among a certain set; but, I should think, not among well-informed, well-bred people."

"I _big_ your _pawdon_, Colambre; surely I, that was born in England, an Henglishwoman _bawn_, must be well _infawmed_ on this _pint_, any way."

Lord Colambre was respectfully silent.

"Mother," resumed he, "I wonder that Miss Nugent is not married."

"That is her own fau't entirely; she has refused very good offers--establishments that I own I think, as Lady Langdale says, I was to blame to allow her to let pa.s.s: but young _ledies_, till they are twenty, always think they can do better. Mr. Martingale, of Martingale, proposed for her, but she objected to him on account of _he'es_ being on the turf; and Mr. St. Albans' 7000_l._ a-year, because--I _reelly_ forget what--I believe only because she did not like him--and something about principles. Now there is Colonel Heathc.o.c.k, one of the most fashionable young men you see, always with the d.u.c.h.ess of Torcaster and that set--Heathc.o.c.k takes a vast deal of notice of her, for him; and yet, I'm persuaded, she would not have him to-morrow if he came to the _pint_, and for no reason, _reelly_ now, that she can give me, but because she says he's a c.o.xcomb. Grace has a tincture of Irish pride. But, for my part, I rejoice that she is so difficult; for I don't know what I should do without her."

"Miss Nugent is indeed--very much attached to you, mother, I am convinced," said Lord Colambre, beginning his sentence with great enthusiasm, and ending it with great sobriety.

"Indeed, then, she's a sweet girl, and I am very partial to her, there's the truth," cried Lady Clonbrony, in an undisguised Irish accent, and with her natural warm manner. But, a moment afterwards, her features and whole form resumed their constrained stillness and stiffness, and in her English accent she continued, "Before you put my _idears_ out of my head, Colambre, I had something to say to you--Oh!

I know what it was--we were talking of embarra.s.sments--and I wish to do your father the justice to mention to you, that he has been _uncommon liberal_ to me about this gala, and has _reelly_ given me carte blanche; and I've a notion--indeed I know,--that it is you, Colambre, I am to thank for this."

"Me, ma'am!"

"Yes: did not your father give you any hint?"

"No, ma'am; I have seen my father but for half an hour since I came to town, and in that time he said nothing to me--of his affairs."

"But what I allude to is more your affair."

"He did not speak to me of any affairs, ma'am--he spoke only of my horses."

"Then I suppose my lord leaves it to me to open the matter to you. I have the pleasure to tell you, that we have in view for you--and, I think I may say, with more than the approbation of all her family--an alliance--"

"Oh, my dear mother! you cannot be serious," cried Lord Colambre; "you know I am not of years of discretion yet--I shall not think of marrying these ten years, at least."

"Why not? Nay, my dear Colambre, don't go, I beg--I am serious, I a.s.sure you--and, to convince you of it, I shall tell you candidly, at once, all your father told me: that now you've done with Cambridge, and are come to Lon'on, he agrees with me in wishing that you should make the figure you ought to make, Colambre, as sole heir apparent to the Clonbrony estate, and all that sort of thing; but, on the other hand, living in Lon'on, and making you the handsome allowance you ought to have, are, both together, more than your father can afford, without inconvenience, he tells me."

"I a.s.sure you, mother, I shall be content--"

"No, no; you must not be content, child, and you must hear me: you must live in a becoming style, and make a proper appearance. I could not present you to my friends here, nor be happy, if you did not, Colambre. Now the way is clear before you: you have birth and t.i.tle, here is fortune ready made--you will have a n.o.ble estate of your own when old Quin dies, and you will not be any enc.u.mbrance or inconvenience to your father or any body. Marrying an heiress accomplishes all this at once--and the young lady is every thing we could wish besides--you will meet again at the gala. Indeed, between ourselves, she is the grand object of the gala--all her friends will come _en ma.s.se_, and one should wish that they should see things in proper style. You have seen the young lady in question, Colambre--Miss Broadhurst--Don't you recollect the young lady I introduced you to last night after the opera?"

"The little plain girl, covered with diamonds, who was standing beside Miss Nugent?"

"In di'monds, yes--But you won't think her plain when you see more of her--that wears off--I thought her plain, at first--I hope--"

"I hope," said Lord Colambre, "that you will not take it unkindly of me, my dear mother, if I tell you, at once, that I have no thoughts of marrying at present--and that I never will marry for money: marrying an heiress is not even a new way of paying old debts--at all events, it is one to which no distress could persuade me to have recourse; and as I must, if I outlive old Mr. Quin, have an independent fortune, _there is no_ occasion to purchase one by marriage."

"There is no distress that I know of in the case," cried Lady Clonbrony. "Where is your imagination running, Colambre? But merely for your establishment, your independence."

"Establishment, I want none--independence I do desire, and will preserve. a.s.sure my father, my _dear mother_, that I will not be an expense to him--I will live within the allowance he made me at Cambridge--I will give up half of it--I will do any thing for his convenience--but marry for money, that I cannot do."

"Then, Colambre, you are very disobliging," said Lady Clonbrony, with an expression of disappointment and displeasure; "for your father says if you don't marry Miss Broadhurst, we can't live in Lon'on another winter."

This said--which had she been at the moment mistress of herself, she would not have betrayed--Lady Clonbrony abruptly quitted the room.

Her son stood motionless, saying to himself, "Is this my mother?--How altered!"

The next morning he seized an opportunity of speaking to his father, whom he caught with difficulty just when he was going out, as usual, for the day. Lord Colambre, with all the respect due to his father, and with that affectionate manner by which he always knew how to soften the strength of his expressions, made nearly the same declarations of his resolution, by which his mother had been so much surprised and offended. Lord Clonbrony seemed more embarra.s.sed, but not so much displeased. When Lord Colambre adverted, as delicately as he could, to the selfishness of desiring from him the sacrifice of liberty for life, to say nothing of his affections, merely to enable his family to make a splendid figure in London, Lord Clonbrony exclaimed, "That's all nonsense!--cursed nonsense! That's the way we are obliged to state the thing to your mother, my dear boy, because I might talk her deaf before she would understand or listen to any thing else; but, for my own share, I don't care a rush if London was sunk in the salt sea. Little Dublin for my money, as Sir Terence O'Fay says."

"Who is Sir Terence O'Fay, may I ask, sir?"

"Why, don't you know Terry?--Ay, you've been so long at Cambridge--I forgot. And did you never see Terry?"

"I have seen him, sir.--I met him yesterday at Mr. Mordicai's, the coachmaker's."

"Mordicai's!" exclaimed Lord Clonbrony, with a sudden blush, which he endeavoured to hide, by taking snuff. "He is a d.a.m.ned rascal, that Mordicai! I hope you didn't believe a word he said--n.o.body does that knows him."

"I am glad, sir, that you seem to know him so well, and to be upon your guard against him," replied Lord Colambre; "for, from what I heard of his conversation, when he was not aware who I was, I am convinced he would do you any injury in his power."

"He shall never have me in his power, I promise him. We shall take care of that--But what did he say?"

Lord Colambre repeated the substance of what Mordicai had said, and Lord Clonbrony reiterated, "d.a.m.ned rascal!--d.a.m.ned rascal!--I'll get out of his hands--I'll have no more to do with him." But, as he spoke, he exhibited evident symptoms of uneasiness, moving continually, and shifting from leg to leg, like a foundered horse.

He could not bring himself positively to deny that he had debts and difficulties; but he would by no means open the state of his affairs to his son: "No father is called upon to do that," said he to himself; "none but a fool would do it."