“No, no, Terry, there you’re out: Minerva has too bad a character for learning to be a favourite with gentlemen,” said Lord Clonbrony.
“Tut—Don’t tell me!—I’d get her off before you could say Jack Robinson, and thank you too, if she had 50,000l. down, or 1,000l. a-year in land. Would you have a man so d——d nice as to balk, when house and land is agoing—a going—a going!—because of the incumbrance of a little learning? But, after all, I never heard that Miss Broadhurst was any thing of a learned lady.”
“Miss Broadhurst!” said Miss Nugent: “how did you get round to Miss Broadhurst?”
“Oh! by the way of Tipperary,” said Lord Colambre.
“I beg your pardon, my lord, it was apropos to good fortune, which, I hope, will not be out of your way, even if you went by Tipperary. She has, besides 100,000l. in the funds, a clear landed property of 10,000l. per annum. Well! some people talk of morality, and some of religion, bat give me a little snug PROPERTY.—But, my lord, I’ve a little business to transact this morning, and must not be idling and indulging myself here.” So, bowing to the ladies, he departed.
“Really, I am glad that man is gone,” said Lady Clonbrony. “What a relief to one’s ears! I am sure I wonder, my lord, how you can bear to carry that strange creature always about with you—so vulgar as he is.”
“He diverts me,” said Lord Clonbrony; “while many of your correct-mannered fine ladies or gentlemen put me to sleep. What signifies what accent people speak in, that have nothing to say, hey, Colambre?”
Lord Colambre, from respect to his father, did not express his opinion; but his aversion to Sir Terence O’Fay was stronger even than his mother’s, though Lady Clonbrony’s detestation of him was much increased by perceiving that his coarse hints about Miss Broadhurst had operated against her favourite scheme.
The next morning, at breakfast, Lord Clonbrony talked of bringing Sir Terence with him that night to her gala—she absolutely grew pale with horror.
“Good Heavens!—Lady Langdale, Mrs. Dareville, Lady Pococke, Lady Chatterton, Lady D——, Lady G——, His Grace of V——; what would they think of him! And Miss Broadhurst, to see him going about with my Lord Clonbrony!”—It could not be. No—her ladyship made the most solemn and desperate protestation, that she would sooner give up her gala altogether—tie up the knocker—say she was sick—rather be sick, or be dead, than be obliged to have such a creature as Sir Terence O’Fay at her gala.