“I thank you, ma’am, for missing me,” said he, addressing himself to his mother: “I stayed away but half an hour; I accompanied my father to St. James’s-street, and when I returned I found that every one had retired to rest.” “Oh, was that the case?” said Lady Clonbrony: “I own I thought it very unlike you to leave me in that sort of way.” “And, lest you should be jealous of that half hour when he was accompanying me,” said Lord Clonbrony, “I must remark, that, though I had his body with me, I had none of his mind; that he left at home with you ladies, or with some fair one across the water, for the deuce of two words did he bestow upon me, with all his pretence of accompanying me.” “Lord Colambre seems to have a fair chance of a pleasant breakfast,” said Miss Nugent, smiling; “reproaches on all sides.” “I have heard none on your side, Grace,” said Lord Clonbrony; “and that’s the reason, I suppose, he wisely takes his seat beside you. But come, we will not badger you any more, my dear boy. We have given him as fine a complexion amongst us as if he had been out hunting these three hours: have not we, Grace?” “When Colambre has been a season or two more in Lon’on, he’ll not be so easily put out of countenance,” said Lady Clonbrony; “you don’t see young men of fashion here blushing about nothing.” “No, nor about any thing, my dear,” said Lord Clonbrony; “but that’s no proof they do nothing they ought to blush for.” “What they do, there’s no occasion for ladies to inquire,” said Lady Clonbrony; “but this I know, that it’s a great disadvantage to a young man of a certain rank to blush; for no people, who live in a certain set, ever do: and it is the most opposite thing possible to a certain air, which, I own, I think Colambre wants; and now that he has done travelling in Ireland, which is no use in _pint_ of giving a gentleman a travelled air, or any thing of that sort, I hope he will put himself under my conduct for next winter’s campaign in town.” Lord Clonbrony looked as if he did not know how to look; and, after drumming on the table for some seconds, said, “Colambre, I told you how it would be: that’s a fatal hard condition of yours.” “Not a hard condition, I hope, my dear father,” said Lord Colambre. “Hard it must be, since it can’t be fulfilled, or won’t be fulfilled, which comes to the same thing,” replied Lord Clonbrony, sighing. “I am persuaded, sir, that it will be fulfilled,” said Lord Colambre; “I am persuaded that, when my mother hears the truth, and the whole truth--when she finds that your happiness, and the happiness of her whole family, depend upon her yielding her taste on one subject--”