I felt my nascent ambition die away within me. I acknowledged it was better to spend an easy life. My determination was confirmed at this instant by the appearance of Lady Geraldine. Ambition and love, it is said, are incompatible passions. Neither of them had yet possession of my heart; but love and Lady Geraldine had perhaps a better chance than ambition and Lord O’Toole. Lady Geraldine appeared in high spirits; and, though I was not a vain man, I could not help fancying that my return to Ormsby Villa contributed to her charming vivacity. This gratified me secretly and soberly, as much as it visibly delighted her mother. Miss Bland, to pay her court to Lady Kildangan, observed that Lady Geraldine was in uncommonly fine spirits this evening. Lady Geraldine threw back a haughty frown over her left shoulder: this was the only time I ever saw her notice, in any manner, any thing that fell from her obsequious friend. To avert the fair one’s displeasure, I asked for Miss Tracey and Mr. Gabbitt. “Mr. Gabbitt,” said her ladyship, resuming her good-humour instantly; “Mr. Gabbitt is gone off the happiest man in Ireland, with the hopes of surveying my Lord O’Toole’s estate; a good job, which I was bound in honour to obtain for him, as a reward for taking a good joke. After mocking him with the bare imagination of a feast, you know the Barmecide in the Arabian Tales gave poor Shakabac a substantial dinner, a full equivalent for the jest.” “And Miss Tracey.” said I, “what did your ladyship do for her?” “I persuaded her mamma that the sweet creature was falling into an atrophy. So she carried the forlorn damsel post haste to the Black Rock for the recovery of her health, or her heart. Clementina, my dear, no reproachful looks; in your secret soul do not you know, that I could not do a young lady a greater favour than to give her a plausible excuse for getting away from home?” I was afraid that Lady Geraldine would feel the want of her butt; however, I found that Miss Tracey’s place was supplied by Captain Andrews, one of the Castle’s aides-de-camp; and when Captain Andrews was out of the way, Lord Kilrush and his brother O’Toole were _good marks_. High and mighty as these personages thought themselves, and respectfully, nay obsequiously, as they were treated by most others, to this lady their characters appeared only a good _study_; and to laugh at them seemed only a _good practice_. “Perhaps, my lord,” said she to me, “you do not yet know my Lord O’Toole?” “I have had the honour to be introduced to him.” “That’s well; for he thinks that, ‘Not to know him, argues yourself unknown.’