The Absentee | Page 6

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 on Wednesday.' While Lady Langdale spoke, she never seemed to
see or think of anybody 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 caricatured the
English pronunciation; and the extraordinary precision of her London
phraseology betrayed her not to be a Londoner, as the man, who strove
to pass for an Athenian, was detected by his Attic dialect. Not aware of
her real danger, Lady Clonbrony was, on the opposite side, in continual
apprehension, every time she opened her lips, lest some treacherous A
or E, some strong R, some puzzling aspirate, or non-aspirate, some
unguarded note, interrogative or expostulatory, should betray her to be
an Irishwoman. Mrs. Dareville had, in her mimickry, perhaps a little
exaggerated as to the TEEBLES and CHEERS, but still the general
likeness of the representation of Lady Clonbrony was strong enough to
strike and vex her son. He had now, for the first time, an opportunity of
judging of the estimation in which his mother and his family were held
by certain leaders of the ton, of whom, in her letters, she had spoken so
much, and into whose society, or rather into whose parties, she had
been admitted. He saw that the renegade cowardice, with which she
denied, abjured, and reviled her own country, gained nothing but
ridicule and contempt. He loved his mother; and, whilst he
endeavoured to conceal her faults and foibles as much as possible from
his own heart, he could not endure those who dragged them to light and
ridicule. The next morning the first thing that occurred to Lord
Colambre's remembrance when he awoke was the sound of the
contemptuous emphasis which had been laid on the words IRISH
ABSENTEES! This led to recollections of his native country, to
comparisons of past and present scenes, to future plans of life. Young
and careless as he seemed, Lord Colambre was capable of serious
reflection. Of naturally quick and strong capacity, ardent affections,
impetuous temper, the early years of his childhood passed at his father's
castle in Ireland, where, from the lowest servant to the well-dressed
dependant of the family, everybody had conspired to wait upon, to
fondle, to flatter, to worship, this darling of their lord. Yet he was not
spoiled--not rendered selfish. For, in the midst of this flattery and
servility, some strokes of genuine generous affection had gone home to
his little heart; and, though unqualified submission had increased the
natural impetuosity of his temper, and though visions of his future

grandeur had touched his infant thought, yet, fortunately, before he
acquired any fixed habits of insolence or tyranny, he was carried far
away