“Have it your own way, my dear, as you have every thing else,” cried Lord Clonbrony, taking up his hat, and preparing to decamp; “but, take notice, if you won’t receive him, you need not expect me. So a good morning to you, my Lady Clonbrony. You may find a worse friend in need yet, than that same Sir Terence O’Fay.”
“I trust I shall never be in need, my lord,” replied her ladyship. “It would be strange indeed if I were, with the fortune I brought.”
“Oh, that fortune of hers!” cried Lord Clonbrony, stopping both his ears as he ran out of his room: “shall I never hear the end of that fortune, when I’ve seen the end of it long ago?”
During this matrimonial dialogue, Miss Nugent and Lord Colambre never once looked at each other. She was very diligently trying the changes that could be made in the positions of a china-mouse, a cat, a dog, a cup, and a brahmin, on the mantel-piece; Lord Colambre as diligently reading the newspaper.
“Now, my dear Colambre,” said Lady Clonbrony, “put down the paper, and listen to me. Let me entreat you not to neglect Miss Broadhurst to-night, as I know that the family come here chiefly on your account.”
“My dear mother, I never can neglect any one of your guests; but I shall be careful not to show any particular attention to Miss Broadhurst, for I never will pretend what I do not feel.”
“But, my dear Colambre, Miss Broadhurst is every thing you could wish, except being a beauty.”
“Perhaps, madam,” said Lord Colambre, fixing his eyes on Miss Nugent, “you think that I can see no farther than a handsome face?”
The unconscious Grace Nugent now made a warm eulogium of Miss Broadhurst’s sense, and wit, and independence of character.
“I did not know that Miss Broadhurst was a friend of yours, Miss Nugent?”