“But how can I make myself intelligible?” “Initials--can’t you use--or genealogy?--What stops you?--It is only Lord Colambre, a very safe person, I have a notion, when the eulogium is of Miss Nugent.” Lord Colambre, who had now performed his arduous duties as a dancer, and had disembarrassed himself of all his partners, came into the Turkish tent just at this moment to refresh himself, and just in time to hear Mr. Salisbury’s anecdotes. “Now go on.” “Mrs. Dareville, you remember, some years ago, went to Ireland, with some lady lieutenant, to whom she was related--there she was most hospitably received by Lord and Lady Clonbrony--went to their country house--was as intimate with Lady Clonbrony and with Miss Nugent as possible--stayed at Clonbrony Castle for a month; and yet, when Lady Clonbrony came to London, never took the least notice of her. At last, meeting at the house of a common friend, Mrs. Dareville could not avoid recognizing her ladyship; but, even then, did it in the least civil manner and most cursory style possible--‘Ho! Lady Clonbrony!--didn’t know you were in England!--When did you come?--How long shall you stay in town?--Hope, before you leave England, your ladyship and Miss Nugent will give us a day?’--_A day!_--Lady Clonbrony was so astonished by this impudence of ingratitude, that she hesitated how to _take it_; but Miss Nugent, quite coolly, and with a smile, answered, ‘A day!--Certainly--to you, who gave us a month!’” “Admirable!--Now I comprehend perfectly why Mrs. Dareville declines insulting Miss Nugent’s friends in her presence.” Lord Colambre said nothing, but thought much. “How I wish my mother,” thought he, “had some of Grace Nugent’s proper pride! She would not then waste her fortune, spirits, health, and life, in courting such people as these.” He had not seen--he could not have borne to have beheld--the manner in which his mother had been treated by some of her guests; but he observed that she now looked harassed and vexed; and he was provoked and mortified, by hearing her begging and beseeching some of the saucy leaders of the ton to oblige her, to do her the favour, to do her the honour, to stay to supper. It was just ready--actually announced. “No, they would not, they could not; they were obliged to run away: engaged to the Duchess of Torcaster.” “Lord Colambre, what is the matter?” said Miss Nugent, going up to him, as he stood aloof and indignant: “Don’t look so like a chafed lion; others may perhaps read your countenance, as well as I do.” “None can read my mind so well,” replied he. “Oh, my dear Grace!--” “Supper!--Supper!” cried she: “your duty to your neighbour, your hand to your partner.”