“You jealous!—Oh, it is too late now—besides, you cannot be jealous, for you never loved.”
“I never loved Miss Broadhurst, I acknowledge.”
“There was the advantage Sir Arthur Berryl had over you—he loved, and my friend saw it.”
“She was clear-sighted,” said Lord Colambre.
“She was clear-sighted,” repeated Miss Nugent; “but if you mean that she was vain, and apt to fancy people in love with her, I can assure you that you are mistaken. Never was woman, young or old, more clear-sighted to the views of those by whom she was addressed. No flattery, no fashion, could blind her judgment.”
“She knew how to choose a friend well, I am sure,” said Lord Colambre.
“And a friend for life, too, I am sure you will allow—and she had such numbers, such strange variety of admirers, as might have puzzled the choice and turned the brain of any inferior person. Such a succession of lovers as she has had this summer, ever since you went to Ireland—they appeared and vanished like figures in a magic lantern. She had three noble admirers—rank in three different forms offered themselves First came in, hobbling, rank and gout; next, rank and gaming; then rank, very high rank, over head and ears in debt. All of these were rejected; and, as they moved off, I thought Mrs. Broadhurst would have broken her heart. Next came fashion, with his head, heart, and soul in his cravat—he quickly made his bow, or rather his nod, and walked off, taking a pinch of snuff. Then came a man of wit—but it was wit without worth; and presently came ‘worth without wit.’ She preferred ‘wit and worth united,’ which she fortunately at last found, Lord Colambre, in your friend, Sir Arthur Berryl.”
“Grace, my girl!” said her uncle, “I’m glad to see you’ve got up your spirits again, though you were not to be bride’s-maid. Well, I hope you’ll be bride soon—I’m sure you ought to be—and you should think of rewarding that poor Mr. Salisbury, who plagues me to death, whenever he can catch hold of me, about you. He must have our definitive at last, you know, Grace.”
A silence ensued, which neither Miss Nugent nor Lord Colambre seemed able or willing to break.
“Very good company, faith, you three!—One of ye asleep, and the other two saying nothing, to keep one awake. Colambre, have you no Dublin news? Grace, have you no Buxton scandal? What was it Lady Clonbrony told us you’d tell us, about the oddness of Miss Broadhurst’s settling her marriage? Tell me that, for I love to hear odd things.”