'Not the least chance of that, if I can prevent it, I promise you,' said Lady Clonbrony.
Lord Colambre and Miss Nugent sighed.
'And I am sure I shall take it very unkindly of you, Colambre, if you go and turn out a partisan for Ireland, after all, like Grace Nugent.'
'A partisan! no;—I hope not a partisan, but a friend,' said Miss Nugent.
'Nonsense, child!—I hate to hear people, women especially, and young ladies particularly, talk of being friends to this country or that country. What can they know about countries? Better think of being friends to themselves, and friends to their friends.'
'I was wrong,' said Miss Nugent, 'to call myself a friend to Ireland; I meant to say, that Ireland had been a friend to me; that I found Irish friends, when I had no other; an Irish home, when I had no other; that my earliest and happiest years, under your kind care, had been spent there; and that I can never forget THAT my dear aunt—I hope you do not wish that I should.'
'Heaven forbid, my sweet Grace!' said Lady Clonbrony, touched by her voice and manner—'Heaven forbid! I don't wish you to do or be anything but what you are; for I am convinced there's nothing I could ask you would not do for me; and, I can tell you, there's few things you could ask, love, I would not do for you.'
A wish was instantly expressed in the eyes of her niece.
Lady Clonbrony, though not usually quick at interpreting the wishes of others, understood and answered, before she ventured to make her request in words.
'Ask anything but THAT, Grace. Return to Clonbrony, while I am able to live in London? That I never can or will do for you or anybody!' looking at her son in all the pride of obstinacy; 'so there is an end of the matter. Go you where you please, Colambre; and I shall stay where I please:—I suppose, as your mother, I have a right to say this much?'