The admiration of Miss Tracey for _the false Craiglethorpe_, as Lady Geraldine called Mr. Gabbitt; the awkwardness of Mr. Gabbitt with his title, and the awkwardness of Lord Craiglethorpe without it, were fine subjects of her ladyship’s satirical humour. In another point of view, Lord Craiglethorpe afforded her ladyship amusement; as an English traveller, full of English prejudices against Ireland and every thing Irish. Whenever Miss Tracey was out of the room, Lady Geraldine allowed Lord Craiglethorpe to be himself again; but he did not fare the better for this restoration to his honours. Lady Geraldine contrived to make him as ridiculous in his real as in his assumed character. Lord Craiglethorpe was, as Miss Bland had described him, very stiff, cold, and _high_. His manners were in the extreme of English reserve, and his ill-bred show of contempt for the Irish was sufficient provocation and justification of Lady Geraldine’s ridicule. He was much in awe of his fair and witty cousin: she could easily put him out of countenance, for he was extremely bashful. His lordship had that sort of bashfulness which makes a man surly and obstinate in his taciturnity; which makes him turn upon all who approach him, as if they were going to assault him; which makes him answer a question as if it were an injury, and repel a compliment as if it were an insult. Once, when he was out of the room, Lady Geraldine exclaimed, “That cousin Craiglethorpe of mine is scarcely an agreeable man: the awkwardness of _mauvaise honte_ might be pitied and pardoned, even in a nobleman,” continued her ladyship, “if it really proceeded from humility; but here, when I know it is connected with secret and inordinate arrogance, ‘tis past all endurance. Even his ways of sitting and standing provoke me, they are so self-sufficient. Have you observed how he stands at the fire? Oh, the caricature of ‘_the English fire-side_’ outdone! Then, if he sits, we hope that change of posture may afford our eyes transient relief: but worse again; bolstered up, with his back against his chair, his hands in his pockets, and his legs thrown out, in defiance of all passengers and all decorum, there he sits, in magisterial silence, throwing a gloom upon all conversation. As the Frenchman said of the Englishman, for whom even his politeness could not find another compliment, ‘Il faut avouer que ce monsieur a un grand talent pour le silence;’ he holds his tongue, till the people actually believe that he has something to say; a mistake they could never fall into if he would but speak.” Some of the company attempted to interpose a word or two in favour of Lord Craiglethorpe’s timidity, but the vivacious and merciless lady went on.