'Till I am of age, madam, if you have no objection.I will spend the ensuing months in travelling in Ireland; and I will return here by the time I am of age, unless you and my father should, before that time, be in Ireland.'
'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?'
Her son, with the utmost respect, assured her that he had no design to infringe upon her undoubted liberty of judging for herself; that he had never interfered, except so far as to tell her circumstances of her affairs, with which she seemed to be totally unacquainted, and of which it might be dangerous to her to continue in ignorance.
'Don't talk to me about affairs,' cried she, drawing her hand away from her son.'Talk to my lord, or my lord's agents, since you are going to Ireland, about business--I know nothing about business; but this I know, I shall stay in England, and be in London, every season, as long as I can afford it; and when Icannot afford to live here, I hope I shall not live anywhere.
That's my notion of life; and that's my determination, once for all; for, if none of the rest of the Clonbrony family have any, Ithank Heaven I have some spirit.' Saying this, with her most stately manner she walked out of the room.Lord Colambre instantly followed her; for, after the resolution and the promise he had made, he did not dare to trust himself at this moment with Miss Nugent.
There was to be a concert this night at Lady Clonbrony's, at which Mrs.and Miss Broadhurst were, of course, expected.That they might not be quite unprepared for the event of her son's going to Ireland, Lady Clonbrony wrote a note to Mrs.Broadhurst, begging her to come half an hour earlier than the time mentioned in the cards, 'that she might talk over something PARTICULAR that had just occurred.'
What passed at this cabinet council, as it seems to have had no immediate influence on affairs, we need not record.Suffice it to observe, that a great deal was said, and nothing done.Miss Broadhurst, however, was not a young lady who could be easily deceived, even where her passions were concerned.The moment her mother told her of Lord Colambre's intended departure, she saw the whole truth.She had a strong mind--was capable of drawing aside, at once, the curtain of self-delusion, and looking steadily at the skeleton of truth--she had a generous, perhaps because a strong mind; for, surrounded, as she had been from her childhood, by every means of self-indulgence which wealth and flattery could bestow, she had discovered early, what few persons in her situation discover till late in life, that selfish gratifications may render us incapable of other happiness, but can never, of themselves, make us happy.Despising flatterers, she had determined to make herself friends to make them in the only possible way--by deserving them.Her father made his immense fortune by the power and habit of constant, bold, and just calculation.The power and habit which she had learned from him she applied on a far larger scale; with him, it was confined to speculations for the acquisition of money; with her, it extended to the attainment of happiness.He was calculating and mercenary: she was estimative and generous.
Miss Nugent was dressing for the concert, or, rather, was sitting half-dressed before her glass, reflecting, when Miss Broadhurst came into her room.Miss Nugent immediately sent her maid out of the room.
'Grace,' said Miss Broadhurst, looking at Grace with an air of open, deliberate composure, 'you and I are thinking of the same thing--of the same person.'
'Yes, of Lord Colambre,' said Miss Nugent, ingenuously and sorrowfully.
