“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 assured 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, passionately; 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 pass 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—