‘Would do a great deal towards it, I declare,’ cried Lady Clonbrony; ’that never struck me before, Grace, I protest—­and what would not suit one might sell or exchange here—­and it would be a great amusement to me—­and I should like to set the fashion of something better in that country.  And I declare, now, I should like to see those poor people, and that widow O’Neill.  I do assure you, I think I was happier at home; only, that one gets, I don’t know how, a notion, one’s nobody out of Lon’on.  But, after all, there’s many drawbacks in Lon’on—­and many people are very impertinent, I’ll allow—­and if there’s a woman in the world I hate, it is Mrs. Dareville—­and, if I was leaving Lon’on, I should not regret Lady Langdale neither—­and Lady St. James is as cold as a stone.  Colambre may well say frozen circles—­these sort of people are really very cold, and have, I do believe, no hearts.  I don’t verily think there is one of them would regret me more—­Hey! let me see, Dublin—­the winter Merrion Square—­new furnished—­and the summer—­Clonbrony Castle!’

Lord Colambre and Miss Nugent waited in silence till her mind should have worked itself clear.  One great obstacle had been removed; and now that the yellow damask had been taken out of her imagination, they no longer despaired.  Lord Clonbrony put his head into the room.

‘What hopes?—­any? if not, let me go.’

He saw the doubting expression of Lady Clonbrony’s countenance—­hope in the face of his son and niece.

‘My dear, dear Lady Clonbrony, make us all happy by one word,’ said he, kissing her.

‘You never kissed me so since we left Ireland before,’ said Lady Clonbrony.  ‘Well, since it must be so, let us go,’ said she.

‘Did I ever see such joy!’ said Lord Clonbrony, clasping his hands; ’I never expected such joy in my life!—­I must go and tell poor Terry!’ and off he ran.

‘And now, since we are to go,’ said Lady Clonbrony, ’pray let us go immediately, before the thing gets wind, else I shall have Mrs. Dareville, and Lady Langdale, and Lady St. James, and all the world, coming to condole with me, just to satisfy their own curiosity; and then Miss Pratt, who hears everything that everybody says, and more than they say, will come and tell me how it is reported everywhere that we are ruined.  ’Oh!  I never could bear to stay and hear all this.  I’ll tell you what I’ll do—­you are to be of age the day after to-morrow, Colambre—­very well, there are some papers for me to sign—­I must stay to put my name to them, and that done, that minute I’ll leave you and Lord Clonbrony to settle all the rest; and I’ll get into my carriage with Grace, and go down to Buxton again; where you can come for me, and take me up, when you’re all ready to go to Ireland—­and we shall be so far on our way.  Colambre, what do you say to this?’

‘That—­if you like it, madam,’ said he, giving one hasty glance at Miss Nugent, and withdrawing his eyes, ‘it is the best possible arrangement.’