"Generosity!" interrupted Miss Nugent; "you totally misunderstand me; there is no generosity, nothing for me to give up in the case. I did not refuse Mr. Salisbury from generosity, but because I did not love him. Perhaps my seeing early what I have just mentioned to you prevented me from thinking of him as a lover; but, from whatever cause, I certainly never felt love for Mr. Salisbury, nor any of that pity which is said to lead to love: perhaps," added she, smiling, "because I was aware that he would be so much better off after I refused him--so much happier with one suited to him in age, talents, fortune, and love--'What bliss, did he but know his bliss,' were _his_.'"

"Did he but know his bliss!" repeated Lord Colambre; "but is not he the best judge of his own bliss?"

"And am not I the best judge of mine?" said Miss Nugent: "I go no farther."

"You are; and I have no right to go farther. Yet, this much permit me to say, my dear Grace, that it would give me sincere pleasure, that is, real satisfaction, to see you happily--established."

"Thank you, my dear Lord Colambre; but you spoke that like a man of seventy at least, with the most solemn gravity of demeanour."

"I meant to be serious, not solemn," said Lord Colambre, endeavouring to change his tone.

"There now," said she, in a playful tone, "you have _seriously_ accomplished the task my good uncle set you; so I will report well of you to him, and certify that you did all that in you lay to exhort me to marry; that you have even a.s.sured me that it would give you sincere pleasure, that is, real satisfaction, to see me happily established."

"Oh, Grace, if you knew how much I felt when I said that, you would spare this raillery."

"I will be serious--I am most seriously convinced of the sincerity of your affection for me; I know my happiness is your object in all you have said, and I thank you from my heart for the interest you take about me. But really and truly I do not wish to marry. This is not a mere commonplace speech; but I have not yet seen any man I could love.

I am happy as I am, especially now we are all going to dear Ireland, home, to live together: you cannot conceive with what pleasure I look forward to that."

Lord Colambre was not vain; but love quickly sees love, or foresees the probability, the possibility, of its existence. He saw that Miss Nugent might love him tenderly, pa.s.sionately; but that duty, habit, the prepossession that it was impossible she could marry her cousin Colambre,--a prepossession instilled into her by his mother--had absolutely prevented her from ever yet thinking of him as a lover. He saw the hazard for her, he felt the danger for himself. Never had she appeared to him so attractive as at this moment, when he felt the hope that he could obtain return of love.

"But St. Omar!--Why! why is she a St. Omar?--illegitimate!--'No St.

Omar _sans reproche_.' My wife she cannot be--I will not engage her affections."

Swift as thoughts in moments of strong feeling pa.s.s in the mind without being put into words, our hero thought all this, and determined, cost what it would, to act honourably.

"You spoke of my returning to Ireland, my dear Grace. I have not yet told you my plans."

"Plans! are not you returning with us?" said she, precipitately; "are not you going to Ireland--home--with us?"

"No:--I am going to serve a campaign or two abroad. I think every young man in these times--

"Good Heavens! What does this mean? What can you mean?" cried she, fixing her eyes upon his, as if she would read his very soul. "Why?

what reason?--Oh, tell me the truth--and at once."

His change of colour--his hand that trembled, and withdrew from hers--the expression of his eyes as they met hers--revealed the truth to her at once. As it flashed across her mind, she started back; her face grew crimson, and, in the same instant, pale as death.

"Yes--you see, you feel the truth now," said Lord Colambre. "You see, you feel, that I love you--pa.s.sionately."

"Oh, let me not hear it!" said she; "I must not--ought not. Never till this moment did such a thought cross my mind--I thought it impossible--Oh, make me think so still."

"I will--it _is_ impossible that we can ever he united."

"I always thought so," said she, taking breath with a deep sigh.

"Then, why not live as we have lived?"

"I cannot--I cannot answer for myself--I will not run the risk; and therefore I must quit you, knowing, as I do, that there is an invincible obstacle to our union; of what nature I cannot explain; I beg you not to inquire."

"You need not beg it--I shall not inquire--I have no curiosity--none,"

said she in a pa.s.sive, dejected tone; "that is not what I am thinking of in the least. I know there are invincible obstacles; I wish it to be so. But, if invincible, you who have so much sense, honour, and virtue--"

"I hope, my dear cousin, that I have honour and virtue. But there are temptations to which no wise, no good man will expose himself.

Innocent creature! you do not know the power of love. I rejoice that you have always thought it impossible--think so still--it will save you from--all I must endure. Think of me but as your cousin, your friend--give your heart to some happier man. As your friend, your true friend, I conjure you, give your heart to some more fortunate man.

Marry, if you can feel love--marry, and be happy. Honour! virtue!

Yes, I have both, and I will not forfeit them. Yes, I will merit your esteem and my own--by actions, not words; and I give you the strongest proof, by tearing myself from you at this moment. Farewell!"

"The carriage at the door, Miss Nugent, and my lady calling for you,"

said her maid. "Here's your key, ma'am, and here's your gloves, my dear ma'am."

"The carriage at the door, Miss Nugent," said Lady Clonbrony's woman, coming eagerly with parcels in her hand, as Miss Nugent pa.s.sed her, and ran down stairs; "and I don't know where I laid my lady's _numbrella_, for my life--do you, Anne?"

"No, indeed--but I know here's my own young lady's watch that she has left. Bless me! I never knew her to forget any thing on a journey before."

"Then she is going to be married, as sure as my name's Le Maistre, and to my Lord Colambre; for he has been here this hour, to my certain Bible knowledge. Oh, you'll see she will be Lady Colambre."

"I wish she may, with all my heart," said Anne; "but I must run down--they're waiting."

"Oh, no!" said Mrs. Le Maistre, seizing Anne's arm, and holding her fast; "stay--you may safely--for they're all kissing and taking leave, and all that, you know; and _my_ lady is talking on about Mr. Soho, and giving a hundred directions about legs of tables, and so forth, I warrant--she's always an hour after she's ready before she gets in--and I'm looking for the _numbrella_. So stay, and tell me--Mrs. Pet.i.to wrote over word it was to be Lady Isabel; and then a contradiction came--it was turned into the youngest of the Killpatricks; and now here he's in Miss Nugent's dressing-room to the last moment. Now, in my opinion, that am not censorious, this does not look so pretty; but, according to my verdict, he is only making a fool of Miss Nugent, like the rest; and his lordship seems too like what you might call a male _c.o.c.ket_, or a masculine jilt."

"No more like a masculine jilt than yourself, Mrs. Le Maistre," cried Anne, taking fire. "And my young lady is not a lady to be made a fool of, I promise you; nor is my lord likely to make a fool of any woman."

"Bless us all! that's no great praise for any young n.o.bleman, Miss Anne."

"Mrs. Le Maistre! Mrs. Le Maistre! are you above?" cried a footman from the bottom of the stairs: "my lady's calling for you."

"Very well! Very well!" said sharp Mrs. Le Maistre; "Very well! and if she is--manners, sir!--Come up for one, can't you, and don't stand bawling at the bottom of the stairs, as if one had no ears to be saved. I'm coming as fast as I can--conveniently can."

Mrs. Le Maistre stood in the door-way, so as to fill it up, and prevent Anne from pa.s.sing.

"Miss Anne! Miss Anne! Mrs. Le Maistre!" cried another footman; "my lady's in the carriage, and Miss Nugent."

"Miss Nugent!--is she?" cried Mrs. Le Maistre, running down stairs, followed by Anne. "Now, for the world in pocket-pieces wouldn't I have missed seeing him hand Miss Nugent in; for by that I could have judged definitively."

"My lord, I beg pardon!--I'm _afeard_ I'm late," said Mrs. Le Maistre, as she pa.s.sed Lord Colambre, who was standing motionless in the hall.

"I beg a thousand pardons; but I was hunting, high and low, for my lady's _numbrella_." Lord Colambre did not hear or heed her: his eyes were fixed, and they never moved.

Lord Clonbrony was at the open carriage-door, kneeling on the step, and receiving Lady Clonbrony's "more last words" for Mr. Soho. The two waiting-maids stood together on the steps.

"Look at our young lord, how he stands," whispered Mrs. Le Maistre to Anne, "the image of despair! And she, the picture of death!--I don't know what to think."

"Nor I: but don't stare, if you can help it," said Anne. "Get in, get in, Mrs. Le Maistre," added she, as Lord Clonbrony now rose from the step, and made way for them.

"Ay, in with you--in with you, Mrs. Le Maistre," said Lord Clonbrony.

"Good bye to you, Anne, and take care of your young mistress at Buxton: let me see her blooming when we meet again; I don't half like her looks, and I never thought Buxton agreed with her."

"Buxton never did any body harm," said Lady Clonbrony: "and as to bloom, I'm sure, if Grace has not bloom enough in her cheeks this moment to please you, I don't know what you'd have, my dear lord--Rouge?--Shut the door, John! Oh, stay!--Colambre!--Where upon earth's Colambre?" cried her ladyship, stretching from the farthest side of the coach to the window.--"Colambre!"

Colambre was forced to appear.