Tales and Novels, vol 6 | Page 2

is Lady Clonbrony come back. I thought she was gone half an
hour ago!"
"Mamma," whispered one of Lady Langdale's daughters, leaning
between her mother and Mrs. Dareville, "who is that gentleman that
passed us just now?"
"Which way?"
"Towards the door.--There now, mamma, you can see him. He is
speaking to Lady Clonbrony--to Miss Nugent--now Lady Clonbrony is

introducing him to Miss Broadhurst."
"I see him now," said Lady Langdale, examining him through her glass;
"a very gentlemanlike looking young man indeed."
"Not an Irishman, I am sure, by his manner," said her grace.
"Heathcock!" said Lady Langdale, "who is Miss Broadhurst talking
to?"
"Eh! now really--'pon honour--don't know," replied Heathcock.
"And yet he certainly looks like somebody one should know," pursued
Lady Langdale, "though I don't recollect seeing him any where before."
"Really now!" was all the satisfaction she could gain from the
insensible, immovable colonel. However, her ladyship, after sending a
whisper along the line, gained the desired information, that the young
gentleman was Lord Colambre, son, only son, of Lord and Lady
Clonbrony--that he was just come from Cambridge--that he was not yet
of age--that he would be of age within a year; that he would then, after
the death of somebody, come into possession of a fine estate by the
mother's side; "and therefore, Cat'rine, my dear," said she, turning
round to the daughter who had first pointed him out, "you understand
we should never talk about other people's affairs."
"No, mamma, never. I hope to goodness, mamma, Lord Colambre did
not hear what you and Mrs. Dareville were saying!"
"How could he, child?--He was quite at the other end of the world."
"I beg your pardon, ma'am--he was at my elbow, close behind us; but I
never thought about him till I heard somebody say 'my lord--'"
"Good heavens!--I hope he didn't hear."
"But, for my part, I said nothing," cried Lady Langdale.
"And for my part, I said nothing but what every body knows," cried

Mrs. Dareville.
"And for my part, I am guilty only of hearing," said the duchess. "Do,
pray, Colonel Heathcock, have the goodness to see what my people are
about, and what chance we have of getting away to-night."
"The Duchess of Torcaster's carriage stops the way!"--a joyful sound to
Colonel Heathcock and to her grace, and not less agreeable, at this
instant, to Lady Langdale, who, the moment she was disembarrassed of
the duchess, pressed through the crowd to Lady Clonbrony, and
addressing her with smiles and complacency, was charmed to have a
little moment to speak to her--could not sooner get through the
crowd--would certainly do herself the honour to be at her ladyship's
gala. While Lady Langdale spoke, she never seemed to see or think of
any body but Lady Clonbrony, though, all the time, she was intent upon
every motion of Lord Colambre; and whilst she was obliged to listen
with a face of sympathy to a long complaint of Lady Clonbrony's,
about Mr. Soho's want of taste in ottomans, she was vexed to perceive
that his lordship showed no desire to be introduced to her or to her
daughters; but, on the contrary, was standing talking to Miss Nugent.
His mother, at the end of her speech, looked round for
"Colambre"--called him twice before he heard--introduced him to Lady
Langdale, and to Lady Cat'rine, and Lady Anne ----, and to Mrs.
Dareville; to all of whom he bowed with an air of proud coldness,
which gave them reason to regret that their remarks upon his mother
and his family had not been made sotto voce.
"Lady Langdale's carriage stops the way!" Lord Colambre made no
offer of his services, notwithstanding a look from his mother. Incapable
of the meanness of voluntarily listening to a conversation not intended
for him to hear, he had, however, been compelled, by the pressure of
the crowd, to remain a few minutes stationary, where he could not
avoid hearing the remarks of the fashionable friends: disdaining
dissimulation, he made no attempt to conceal his displeasure. Perhaps
his vexation was increased by his consciousness that there was some
mixture of truth in their sarcasms. He was sensible that his mother, in
some points--her manners, for instance--was obvious to ridicule and

satire. In Lady Clonbrony's address there was a mixture of constraint,
affectation, and indecision, unusual in a person of her birth, rank, and
knowledge of the world. A natural and unnatural manner seemed
struggling in all her gestures, and in every syllable that she
articulated--a naturally free, familiar, good-natured, precipitate, Irish
manner, had been schooled, and schooled late in life, into a sober, cold,
still, stiff deportment, which she mistook for English. A strong
Hibernian accent she had, with infinite difficulty, changed into an
English tone. Mistaking reverse of wrong for right, she