“Lady Y——, give me leave to introduce to you Mr. O’Donoghoe.”
Shocked by the sound of my own name, I was ready to recoil abashed. The elderly lady turned her eyes upon me for an instant, with that indifference with which we look at an uninteresting stranger. The young lady seemed to pity my confusion; for though so well and so long used to varieties of the highest company, when placed in a situation that was new to me, I was unaccountably disconcerted. Ah! thought I, how differently should I be received were I still Earl of Glenthorn!
I was rather angry with Lord Y——, for not introducing me, as he had promised, to this fair lady; and yet the repetition of my name would have increased my vexation. In short, I was unjust, and felt an impatience and irritability quite unusual to my temper. Lady Y——addressed some conversation to me, in an obliging manner, and I did my best to support my part till she left me: but my attention was soon distracted, by a conversation that commenced at another part of the room, between her and the elderly lady.
“My dear Lady Y——, have you heard the extraordinary news? the most incredible thing that ever was heard! For my part, I cannot believe it yet, though we have the intelligence from the best authority. Lord Glenthorn, that is to say, the person we always called Lord Glenthorn, turns out to be the son of the Lord knows who—they don’t mention the name.”
At this speech I was ready to sink into the earth. Lord Y—— took my arm, and led me into another room. “I have some cameos,” said he, “which are thought curious; would you like to look at them?”
“Can you conceive it?” continued the elderly lady, whose voice I still heard, as the folding-doors of the room were open: “Changed at nurse! One hears of such things in novels, but, in real life, I absolutely cannot believe it. Yet here, in this letter from Lady Ormsby, are all the particulars: and a blacksmith is found to be Earl of Glenthorn, and takes possession of Glenthorn castle, and all the estates. And the man is married, to some vulgarian of course: and he has a son, and may have half a hundred, you know; so there is an end of our hopes; and there is an end too of all my fine schemes for Cecilia.”
I felt myself change colour again. “I believe,” said I to Lord Y——, “I ought not to hear this. If your lordship will give me leave, I will shut the door.”
“No, no,” said he, smiling, and stopping me; “you ought to hear it, for it will do you a great deal of good. You know I have undertaken to be your guide, philosopher, and friend; so you must let me have my own way: and if it should so happen, hear yourself abused patiently.—Is not this a fine bust of Socrates?”
Some part of the conversation in the next room I missed, whilst his lordship spoke. The next words I heard were—
“But my dear Lady Y——, look at Cecilia.—Would not any other girl be cast down and miserable in Cecilia’s place? yet see, see how provokingly happy and well she looks.”