‘About?’ said Lady Clonbrony, in a tone, and with a look of curiosity which convinced her son that she knew nothing of his debts or distresses, if he had any.  ‘About what?’ repeated her ladyship.

Here was no receding, and Lord Colambre never had recourse to artifice.

’About his affairs, I was going to say, madam.  But, since you know nothing of any difficulties or embarrassments, I am persuaded that none exist.’

Nay, I cawnt tell you that, Colambre.  There are difficulties for ready money, I confess, when I ask for it, which surprise me often.  I know nothing of affairs—­ladies of a certain rank seldom do, you know.  But, considering your father’s estate, and the fortune I brought him,’ added her ladyship, proudly, ’I cawnt conceive it at all.  Grace Nugent, indeed, often talks to me of embarrassments and economy; but that, poor thing, is very natural for her, because her fortune is not particularly large, and she has left it all, or almost all, in her uncle and guardian’s hands.  I know she’s often distressed for odd money to lend me, and that makes her anxious.’

‘Is not Miss Nugent very much admired, ma’am, in London?’

’Of course—­in the company she is in, you know, she has every advantage.  And she has a natural family air of fashion—­not but what she would have got on much better, if, when she first appeared in Lon’on, she had taken my advice, and wrote herself on her cards Miss de Nogent, which would have taken off the prejudice against the IRICISM of Nugent, you know; and there is a Count de Nogent.’

’I did not know there was any such prejudice, ma’am.  There may be among a certain set; but, I should think, not among well-informed, well-bred people.’

’I big your PAWDON, Colambre; surely I, that was born in England, an Henglish-woman BAWN! must be well INFAWMED on this pint, anyway.’

Lord Colambre was respectfully silent.

‘Mother,’ resumed he, ‘I wonder that Miss Nugent is not married!’

’That is her own fau’t, entirely; she has refused very good offers—­establishments that, I own, I think, as Lady Langdale says, I was to blame to allow her to let pass; but young LEDIES till they are twenty, always think they can do better.  Mr. Martingale, of Martingale, proposed for her, but she objected to him on account of he’s being on the turf; and Mr. St. Albans’ L7000 a year—­because—­I REELLY forget what—­I believe only because she did not like him—­and something about principles.  Now there is Colonel Heathcock, one of the most fashionable young men you see, always with the Duchess of Torcaster and that set—­Heathcock takes a vast deal of notice of her, for him; and yet, I’m persuaded, she would not have him to-morrow, if he came to the pint, and for no reason, REELLY now, that she can give me, but because she says he’s a coxcomb.  Grace has a tincture of Irish pride.  But, for my part, I rejoice that she is so difficult, for I don’t know what I should do without her.’