This was too much, and, seeing the weary faces about him, Lord Dungory determined to change the subject of conversation: 

‘The end of government?’ he said; ’I am afraid that you would get many different answers to that question.  Ask these young ladies; they will tell you, probably, that it is to have des beaux amants et des joyeuses amours, and I am not sure that they are not right.’

Mrs. Barton’s coaxing laugh was heard, and then reference was made to the detachment of the Connaught Rangers stationed at Galway, and the possibility of their giving a dance was eagerly discussed.  Mr. Ryan had a word to say anent the hunting prospect, and, when May Gould declared she was going to ride straight and not miss a meet, she completed the conquest of Mr. Scully, and encouraging glances were exchanged between them until Lady Sarah looked inquiringly round the table—­then she pushed back her chair.  All rose, and a moment after, through the twilight of the drawing-room, colour and nudity were scattered in picturesque confusion.

Every mind was occupied by one thought—­how the pleasure of the dinner-party had been spoiled by that horrible Land League discussion.  All wondered who had introduced the subject, and the blame was fixed upon Mr. Adair.  Mrs. Gould, in her homely way, came to the point at once: 

’People say he is so clever, but I am sure I can’t see it.  He has spent a fortune in building farmyards in concrete, and his saw-mill, I hear, costs him twenty pounds a month dead loss, and he is always writing letters to the papers.  I never can think much of a man who writes to the papers.’

‘A most superior man,’ said Lady Sarah, who, notwithstanding her thirty-five years, had not entirely given up hope.  ’He took honours at Trinity.’

Then Mr. Burke and Lord Kilcarney were spoken of, and some new anecdotes were told of Mr. Ryan.  The famous one—­how he had asked a lady to show him her docket at the Galway ball, when she told him that she was engaged for all the dances—­excited, as it never failed to do, a good deal of laughter.  Mrs. Barton did not, however, join in the conversation.  She knew, if she did, that the Ladies Cullen would be as rude as the absence of Milord, and the fact that she was a guest in their house would allow them to be.  Mrs. Barton’s mind was now occupied with one thought, and, leaning back in her chair, she yielded herself entirely to it.  Although the dinner-party had been spoiled by Mr. Adair’s uncontrollable desire to impart information, she had, nevertheless, noticed that Captain Hibbert had been very much struck with Olive’s beauty.  She was aware that her daughter was a beautiful girl, but whether men would want to marry her Mrs. Barton did not know.  Captain Hibbert’s conduct would help her to arrive at a decision.  She certainly dreamed of a title for Olive.  Lord Kilcarney was, alas! not to be thought of.  Ah! if Mr. Burke were only Lord Kilcarney!  But he was not.