He was obliged, in performance of a domestic duty, to walk out to dinner with one of Lady George’s daughters, but he contrived to sit next to Fanny—­and, much to his father’s satisfaction, talked to her during the whole ceremony.

“And where have you hidden yourself all the morning, Fanny,” said he, “that nobody has seen anything of you since breakfast?”

“Whither have you taken yourself all the day, rather, that you had not a moment to come and look after us?  The Miss O’Joscelyns have been expecting you to ride with them, walk with them, talk with them, and play la grace with them.  They didn’t give up the sticks till it was quite dark, in the hope of you and Mr Tierney making your appearance.”

“Well, Fanny, don’t tell my mother, and I’ll tell you the truth:—­ promise now.”

“Oh, I’m no tell-tale.”

“Well then,” and he whispered into her ear—­“I was running away from the Miss O’Joscelyns.”

“But that won’t do at all; don’t you know they were asked here for your especial edification and amusement?”

“Oh, I know they were.  So were the bishop, and the colonel, and Lord George, and their respective wives, and Mr Hill.  My dear mamma asked them all here for my amusement; but, you know, one man may lead a horse to water—­a hundred can’t make him drink.  I cannot, cannot drink of the Miss O’Joscelyns, and the Bishop of Maryborough.”

“For shame, Adolphus! you ought at any rate to do something to amuse them.”

“Amuse them!  My dear Fanny, who ever heard of amusing a bishop?  But it’s very easy to find fault; what have you done, yourself, for their amusement?”

“I didn’t run away from them; though, had I done so, there would have been more excuse for me than for you.”

“So there would, Fanny,” said Kilcullen, feeling that she had alluded to her brother’s death; “and I’m very, very sorry all these people are here to bore you at such a time, and doubly sorry that they should have been asked on my account.  They mistake me greatly, here.  They know that I’ve thought Grey Abbey dull, and have avoided it; and now that I’ve determined to get over the feeling, because I think it right to do so, they make it ten times more unbearable than ever, for my gratification!  It’s like giving a child physic mixed in sugar; the sugar’s sure to be the nastiest part of the dose.  Indeed I have no dislike to Grey Abbey at present; though I own I have no taste for the sugar in which my kind mother has tried to conceal its proper flavour.”

“Well, make the best of it; they’ll all be gone in ten days.”

“Ten days!  Are they to stay ten days?  Will you tell me, Fanny, what was the object in asking Mat Tierney to meet such a party?”

“To help you to amuse the young ladies.”

“Gracious heavens!  Does Lady Cashel really expect Mat Tierney to play la grace with the Miss O’Joscelyns?—­Well, the time will come to an end, I suppose.  But in truth I’m more sorry for you than for any one.  It was very ill-judged, their getting such a crowd to bore you at such a time,” and Lord Kilcullen contrived to give his voice a tone of tender solicitude.