'And how has he been reduced to this?' said Lord Colambre.'Did he not formerly live with gentlemen, his equals, in his own country; his contemporaries? Men of the first station and character, whom I met in Dublin, spoke of him in a manner that gratified the heart of his son; he was respectable and respected at his own home; but when he was forced away from that home, deprived of his objects, his occupations induced him to live in London, or at watering-places, where he could find no employments that were suitable to him--set down, late in life, in the midst of strangers, to him cold and reserved--himself too proud to bend to those who disdained him as an Irishman--is he not more to be pitied than blamed for--yes, I, his son, must say the word-- the degradation which has ensued? And do not the feelings, which have this moment forced him to leave the room, show that he is capable?--Oh, mother!' cried Lord Colambre, throwing himself at Lady Clonbrony's feet, 'restore my father to himself! Should such feelings be wasted?--No; give them again to expand in benevolent, in kind, useful actions; give him again to his tenantry, his duties, his country, his home; return to that home yourself, dear mother! leave all the nonsense of high life--scorn the impertinence of these dictators of fashion, by whom, in return for all the pains we take to imitate, to court them--in return for the sacrifice of health, fortune, peace of mind, they bestow sarca**, contempt, ridicule, and mimickry!'
'Oh, Colambre! Colambre! mimickry--I'll never believe it,'
'Believe me--believe me, mother; for I speak of what I know.
Scorn them--quit them! Return to an unsophisticated people--to poor, but grateful hearts, still warm with the remembrance of your kindness, still blessing you for favours long since conferred, ever praying to see you once more.Believe me, for Ispeak of what I know--your son has heard these prayers, has felt these blessings.Here! at my heart felt, and still feel them, when I was not known to be your son, in the cottage of the widow O'Neill.'
'Oh, did you see the widow O'Neill? and does she remember me?'
said Lady Clonbrony.
'Remember you! and you, Miss Nugent! I have slept in the bed--Iwould tell you more, but I cannot.'
'Well! I never should have thought they would have remembered me so long!--poor people!' said Lady Clonbrony.'I thought all in Ireland must have forgotten me, it is now so long since I was at home.'
'You are not forgotten in Ireland by any rank, I can answer for that.Return home, my dearest mother--let me see you once more among your natural friends, beloved, respected, happy!'
'Oh, return! let us return home!' cried Miss Nugent, with a voice of great emotion.'Return, let us return home! My beloved aunt, speak to us! say that you grant our request!'
She kneeled beside Lord Colambre, as she spoke.
'Is it possible to resist that voice--that look?' thought Lord Colambre.
'If anybody knew,' said Lady Clonbrony, 'if anybody could conceive, how I detest the sight, the thoughts of that old yellow damask furniture, in the drawing-room at Clonbrony Castle--'
'Good heavens!" cried Lord Colambre, starting up, and looking at his mother in stupefied astonishment; 'is THAT what you are thinking of, ma'am?'
'The yellow damask furniture!' said her niece, smiling.Oh, if that's all, that shall never offend your eyes again.Aunt, my painted velvet chairs are finished; and trust the furnishing that room to me.The legacy lately left me cannot be better applied you shall see how beautifully it will be furnished.'
'Oh, if I had money, I should like to do it myself; but it would take an immensity to new furnish Clonbrony Castle properly.'
'The furniture in this house ' said Miss Nugent, looking round.
'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, Ishould like to see those poor people, and that widow O'Neill.Ido 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.
