‘Good heavens, Sir Terence! surely you said no such thing?’

’I did—­but what was it but a wager? which is nothing but a dream; and, when lost, as I am as sinsible as you are that it must be, why, what is it, after all, but a bonus, in a gentleman-like form, to Mordicai? which, I grant you, is more than he deserves, for staying the execution till you be of age; and even for my Lady Clonbrony’s sake, though I know she hates me like poison, rather than have her disturbed by an execution, I’d pay the hundred guineas this minute out of my own pocket, if I had’em in it.’

A thundering knock at the door was heard at this moment.

’Never heed it; let ’em thunder,’ said Sir Terence; ’whoever it is, they won’t get in; for my lord bid them let none in for their life.  It’s necessary for us to be very particular about the street-door now; and I advise a double chain for it, and to have the footmen well tutored to look before they run to a double rap; for a double rap might be a double trap.’

‘My lady and Miss Nugent, my lord,’ said a footman, throwing open the door.

‘My mother!  Miss Nugent!’ cried Lord Colambre, springing eagerly forward.

‘Colambre! here!’ said his mother; ’but it’s all too late now, and no matter where you are.’

Lady Clonbrony coldly suffered her son to embrace her; and he, without considering the coldness of her manner, scarcely hearing, and not at all understanding the words she said, fixed his eyes on his cousin, who, with a countenance all radiant with affectionate joy, held out her hand to him.

‘Dear cousin Colambre, what an unexpected pleasure!’

He seized the hand; but, as he was going to kiss it, the recollection of st. Omar crossed his mind; he checked himself, and said something about joy and pleasure, but his countenance expressed neither; and Miss Nugent, much surprised by the coldness of his manner, withdrew her hand, and, turning away, left the room.

‘Grace! darling!’ called Lord Clonbrony, ’whither so fast, before you’ve given me a word or a kiss?’

She came back, and hastily kissed her uncle, who folded her in his arms.  ‘Why must I let you go?  And what makes you so pale, my dear child?’

‘I am a little—­a little tired.  I will be with you again soon.’  Her uncle let her go.

’Your famous Buxton baths don’t seem to have agreed with her, by all I can see,’ said Lord Clonbrony.

’My lord, the Buxton baths are no way to blame; but I know what is to blame, and who is to blame,’ said Lady Clonbrony, in a tone of displeasure, fixing her eyes upon her son.  ’Yes, you may well look confounded, Colambre; but it is too late now—­you should have known your own mind in time.  I see you have heard it, then—­but I am sure I don’t know how; for it was only decided the day I left Buxton.  The news could hardly travel faster than I did.  Pray, how did you hear it?’