“It would be no honour, and they know that as well as I do,” said the intractable Mr. Reynolds. “It will be no advantage, either; but that they do not know as well as I do. Mrs. Petito, to save you and your lady all trouble about me in future, please to let my Lady Dashfort know that I have just received and read the certificate of my son Captain Reynolds’ marriage with Miss St. Omar. I have acknowledged the marriage. Better late than never; and to-morrow morning, God willing, shall set out with this young nobleman for Buxton, where I hope to see, and intend publicly to acknowledge, my grand-daughter--provided she will acknowledge me.” “_Crimini!_” exclaimed Mrs. Petito, “what new turns are here? Well, sir, I shall tell my lady of the _metamorphoses_ that have taken place, though by what magic I can’t guess. But, since it seems annoying and inopportune, I shall make my _finale_, and shall thus leave a verbal P.P.C.--as you are leaving town, it seems, for Buxton so early in the morning. My Lord Colambre, if I see rightly into a millstone, as I hope and believe I do on the present occasion, I have to congratulate your lordship (haven’t I?) upon something like a succession, or a windfall, in this _denewment_. And I beg you’ll make my humble respects acceptable to the _ci-devant_ Miss Grace Nugent that was; and I won’t _derrogate_ her by any other name in the interregnum, as I am persuaded it will only be a temporary name, scarce worth assuming, except for the honour of the public adoption; and that will, I’m confident, be soon exchanged for a viscount’s title, or I have no sagacity or sympathy. I hope I don’t (pray don’t let me) put you to the blush, my lord.” Lord Colambre would not have let her, if he could have helped it. “Count O’Halloran, your most obedient! I had the honour of meeting you at Killpatricks-town,” said Mrs. Petito, backing to the door, and twitching her shawl. She stumbled, nearly fell down, over the large dog--caught by the door, and recovered herself--Hannibal rose and shook his ears. “Poor fellow! you are of my acquaintance, too.” She would have stroked his head; but Hannibal walked off indignant, and so did she.