“Oh, you was going to say wrong, then! It’s not called swindling amongst gentlemen who know the world—it’s only jockeying—fine sport—and very honourable to help a friend at a dead lift. Any thing to help a friend out of a present pressing difficulty.”
“And when the present difficulty is over, do your friends never think of the future?”
“The future! leave the future to posterity,” said Sir Terence; “I’m counsel only for the present; and when the evil comes, it’s time enough to think of it. I can’t bring the guns of my wits to bear till the enemy’s alongside of me, or within sight of me at the least. And besides, there never was a good commander yet, by sea or land, that would tell his little expedients beforehand, or before the very day of battle.”
“It must be a sad thing,” said Miss Nugent, sighing deeply, “to be reduced to live by little expedients—daily expedients.”
Lord Colambre struck his forehead, but said nothing.
“But if you are beating your brains about your own affairs, my Lord Colambre, my dear,” said Sir Terence, “there’s an easy way of settling your family affairs at once; and since you don’t like little daily expedients, Miss Nugent, there’s one great expedient, and an expedient for life, that will settle it all to your satisfaction—and ours. I hinted it delicately to you before; but, between friends, delicacy is impertinent; so I tell you, in plain English, you’ve nothing to do but go and propose yourself, just as you stand, to the heiress Miss B——, that desires no better—”
“Sir!” cried Lord Colambre, stepping forward, red with sudden anger.
Miss Nugent laid her hand upon his arm. “Oh, my lord!”
“Sir Terence O’Fay,” continued Lord Colambre, in a moderated tone, “you are wrong to mention that young lady’s name in such a manner.”
“Why then I said only Miss B——, and there are a whole hive of bees. But I’ll engage she’d thank me for what I suggested, and think herself the queen bee if my expedient was adopted by you.”