‘Hear what, ma’am?’ said Lord Colambre.

‘Why, that Miss Broadhurst is going to be married.’

‘Oh, is that all, ma’am!’ said our hero, much relieved.

’All!  Now, Lord Colambre, you REELLY are too much for my patience.  But I flatter myself you will feel, when I tell you, that it is your friend, Sir Arthur Berryl, as I always prophesied, who has carried off the prize from you.’

’But for the fear of displeasing my dear mother, I should say, that I do feel sincere pleasure in this marriage—­I always wished it:  my friend, Sir Arthur, from the first moment, trusted me with the secret of his attachment; he knew that he had my warm good wishes for his success; he knew that I thought most highly of the young lady; but that I never thought of her as a wife for myself.’

‘And why did not you? that is the very thing I complain of,’ said Lady Clonbrony.  ’But it is all over now.  You may set your heart at ease, for they are to be married on Thursday; and poor Mrs. Broadhurst is ready to break her heart, for she was set upon a coronet for her daughter; and you, ungrateful as you are, you don’t know how she wished you to be the happy man.  But only conceive, after all that had passed, Miss Broadhurst had the assurance to expect I would let my niece be her bridesmaid.  Oh, I flatly refused; that is, I told Grace it could not be; and, that there might be no affront to Mrs. Broadhurst, who did not deserve it, I pretended Grace had never mentioned it; but ordered my carriage, and left Buxton directly.  Grace was hurt, for she is very warm in her friendships.  I am sorry to hurt Grace.  But REELLY I could not let her be bridesmaid;—­and that, if you must know, is what vexed her, and made the tears come in her eyes, I suppose—­and I’m sorry for it; but one must keep up one’s dignity a little.  After all, Miss Broadhurst was only a citizen—­and REELLY now, a very odd girl; never did anything like anybody else; settled her marriage at last in the oddest way.  Grace, can you tell the particulars?  I own, I am tired of the subject, and tired of my journey.  My lord, I shall take leave to dine in my own room to-day,’ continued her ladyship, as she quitted the room.

‘I hope her ladyship did not notice me,’ said Sir Terence O’Fay, coming from behind a window-curtain.

‘Why, Terry, what did you hide for?’ said Lord Clonbrony.

’Hide!  I didn’t hide, nor wouldn’t from any man living, let alone any woman. [Leaving any woman out of the question.] Hide! no; but I just stood looking out of the window, behind this curtain, that my poor Lady Clonbrony might not be discomfited and shocked by the sight of one whom she can’t abide, the very minute she come home.  Oh, I’ve some consideration—­it would have put her out of humour worse with both of you too; and for that there’s no need, as far as I see.  So I’ll take myself off to my coffee-house to dine, and maybe you may get her down and into spirits again.