“Good heavens, Sir Terence! surely you said no such thing?”
“I did—but what was it but a wager? which is nothing but a dream; and, when lost, as I am as sensible as you are that it must be, why what is it, after all, but a bonus, in a gentlemanlike form, to Mordicai? which, I grant you, is more than he deserves—for staying the execution till you be of age; and even for my Lady Clonbrony’s sake, though I know she hates me like poison, rather than have her disturbed by an execution, I’d pay the hundred guineas this minute out of my own pocket, if I had ‘em in it.”
A thundering knock at the door was heard at this moment.
“Never heed it; let ‘em thunder,” said Sir Terence: “whoever it is, they won’t get in; for my lord bid them let none in for their life. It’s necessary for us to be very particular about the street-door now; and I advise a double chain for it, and to have the footmen well tutored to look before they run to a double rap; for a double rap might be a double trap.”
“My lady and Miss Nugent, my lord,” said a footman, throwing open the door.
“My mother! Miss Nugent!” cried Lord Colambre, springing eagerly forward.
“Colambre! Here!” said his mother: “but it’s all too late now, and no matter where you are.”
Lady Clonbrony coldly suffered her son to embrace her; and he, without considering the coldness of her manner, scarcely hearing, and not at all understanding, the words she said, fixed his eyes on his cousin, who, with a countenance all radiant with affectionate joy, held out her hand to him.
“Dear cousin Colambre, what an unexpected pleasure!”
He seized the hand; but, as he was going to kiss it, the recollection of St. Omar crossed his mind: he checked himself, and said something about joy and pleasure, but his countenance expressed neither; and Miss Nugent, much surprised by the coldness of his manner, withdrew her hand, and, turning away, left the room.