The young nobleman himself enlightened me somewhat upon the subjects I was most desirous to inquire into.

‘Chevalier,’ said he to me one morning when I went to pay him my compliments, ’I find you are an old acquaintance with my kinswoman, the Countess of Lyndon.  She writes me a page of abuse of you in a letter here; and the strange part of the story is this, that one day when there was talk about you at Castle Lyndon, and the splendid equipage you were exhibiting in Dublin, the fair widow vowed and protested she never had heard of you.

’"Oh yes, mamma,” said the little Bullingdon, “the tall dark man at Spa with the cast in his eye, who used to make my governor tipsy and sent me the sword:  his name is Mr. Barry.”

’But my Lady ordered the boy out of the room, and persisted in knowing nothing about you.’

‘And are you a kinsman and acquaintance of my Lady Lyndon, my Lord?’ said I, in a tone of grave surprise.

‘Yes, indeed,’ answered the young gentleman.  ’I left her house but to get this ugly wound from you.  And it came at a most unlucky time too.’

‘Why more unlucky now than at another moment?’

’Why, look you, Chevalier, I think the widow was not unpartial to me.  I think I might have induced her to make our connection a little closer:  and faith, though she is older than I am, she is the richest party now in England.’

‘My Lord George,’ said I, ’will you let me ask you a frank but an odd question?—­will you show me her letters?’

‘Indeed I’ll do no such thing,’ replied he, in a rage.

’Nay, don’t be angry.  If I show you letters of Lady Lyndon’s to me, will you let me see hers to you?’

‘What, in Heaven’s name, do you mean, Mr. Barry?’ said the young gentleman.

’I mean that I passionately loved Lady Lyndon.  I mean that I am a —­that I rather was not indifferent to her.  I mean that I love her to distraction at this present moment, and will die myself, or kill the man who possesses her before me.’

‘You marry the greatest heiress and the noblest blood in England?’ said Lord George haughtily.

‘There’s no nobler blood in Europe than mine,’ answered I:  ’and I tell you I don’t know whether to hope or not.  But this I know, that there were days in which, poor as I am, the great heiress did not disdain to look down upon my poverty:  and that any man who marries her passes over my dead body to do it.  It’s lucky for you,’ I added gloomily, ’that on the occasion of my engagement with you, I did not know what were your views regarding my Lady Lyndon.  My poor boy, you are a lad of courage and I love you.  Mine is the first sword in Europe, and you would have been lying in a narrower bed than that you now occupy.’

‘Boy!’ said Lord George:  ‘I am not four years younger than you are.’