“I have no thoughts to give up, ma’am,” said Miss Nugent, smiling. “Miss Broadhurst,” continued she, going on eagerly with what she was saying to Lord Colambre, “Miss Broadhurst is my friend, a friend I love and admire; but you will allow that I strictly kept my promise, never to praise her to you, till you should begin to praise her to me. Now recollect, last night, you did praise her to me, so justly, that I thought you liked her, I confess; so that it is natural I should feel a little disappointed. Now you know the whole of my mind; I have no intention to encroach on your confidence; therefore, there is no occasion to look so embarrassed. I give you my word, I will never speak to you again upon the subject,” said she, holding out her hand to him, “provided you will never again call me Miss Nugent. Am I not your own cousin Grace?--Do not be displeased with her.” “You are my own dear cousin Grace; and nothing can be farther from my mind than any thought of being displeased with her; especially just at this moment, when I am going away, probably, for a considerable time.” “Away!--when?--where?” “To-morrow morning, for Ireland.” “Ireland! of all places,” cried Lady Clonbrony. “What upon earth puts it into your head to go to Ireland? You do very well to go out of the way of falling in love ridiculously, since that is the reason of your going; but what put Ireland into your head, child?” “I will not presume to ask my mother what put Ireland out of her head,” said Lord Colambre, smiling; “but she will recollect that it is my native country.” “That was your father’s fault, not mine,” said Lady Clonbrony; “for I wished to have been confined in England: but he would have it to say that his son and heir was born at Clonbrony Castle--and there was a great argument between him and my uncle, and something about the Prince of Wales and Caernarvon Castle was thrown in, and that turned the scale, much against my will; for it was my wish that my son should be an Englishman born--like myself. But, after all, I don’t see that having the misfortune to be born in a country should tie one to it in any sort of way; and I should have hoped your English _edication_, Colambre, would have given you too liberal _idears_ for that--so I _reely_ don’t see why you should go to Ireland merely because it’s your native country.” “Not merely because it is my native country--but I wish to go thither--I desire to become acquainted with it--because it is the country in which my father’s property lies, and from which we draw our subsistence.” “Subsistence! Lord bless me, what a word! fitter for a pauper than a nobleman--subsistence! Then, if you are going to look after your father’s property, I hope you will make the agents do their duty, and send us remittances. And pray how long do you mean to stay?”