The Absentee (30 page)

Sir Terence was not deficient in penetration, but he never could help
boasting of his discoveries.

Lord Colambre was grateful for his judicious departure; and followed his
equally judicious advice, not to touch upon Ireland this night.

Lady Clonbrony was full of Buxton, and he was glad to be relieved from
the necessity of talking; and he indulged himself in considering what
might be passing in Miss Nugent's mind. She now appeared in remarkably
good spirits; for her aunt had given her a hint that she thought her
out of humour because she had not been permitted to be Miss Broadhurst's
bridesmaid, and she was determined to exert herself to dispel this
notion. This it was now easy for her to do, because she had, by this
time, in her own imagination, found a plausible excuse for that coldness
in Lord Colambre's reception of her, by which she had at first been
hurt; she had settled it, that he had taken it for granted she was of
his mother's sentiments respecting Miss Broadhurst's marriage, and that
this idea, and perhaps the apprehension of her reproaches, had
caused his embarrassment—she knew that she could easily set this
misunderstanding right. Accordingly, when Lady Clonbrony had talked
herself to sleep about Buxton, and was taking her afternoon's nap, as it
was her custom to do when she had neither cards nor company to keep her
awake, Miss Nugent began to explain her own sentiments, and to give Lord
Colambre, as her aunt had desired, an account of the manner in which
Miss Broadhurst's marriage had been settled.

'In the first place,' said she, 'let me assure you that I rejoice in
this marriage; I think your friend, Sir Arthur Berryl, is every way
deserving of my friend, Miss Broadhurst; and this from me,' said she,
smiling, 'is no slight eulogium. I have marked the rise and progress
of their attachment; and it has been founded on the perception of
such excellent qualities on each side, that I have no fear for its
permanence. Sir Arthur Berryl's honourable conduct in paying his
father's debts, and his generosity to his mother and sisters, whose
fortunes were left entirely dependent upon him, first pleased my friend.
It was like what she would have done herself, and like—in short, it is
what few young men, as she said, of the present day would do. Then his
refraining from all personal expenses, his going without equipage and
without horses, that he might do what he felt to be right, whilst it
exposed him continually to the ridicule of fashionable young men, or
to the charge of avarice, made a very different impression on Miss
Broadhurst's mind; her esteem and admiration were excited by these
proofs of strength of character, and of just and good principles.'

'If you go on, you will make me envious and jealous of my friend,' said
Lord Colambre.

'You jealous!—Oh, it is too late now—besides, you cannot be jealous,
for you never loved.'

'I never loved Miss Broadhurst, I acknowledge.'

'There was the advantage Sir Arthur Berryl had over you—he loved, and
my friend saw it.'

'She was clear-sighted,' said Lord Colambre.

'She was clear-sighted,' repeated Miss Nugent; 'but if you mean that
she was vain, and apt to fancy people in love with her, I can assure you
that you are mistaken. Never was woman, young or old, more clear-sighted
to the views of those by whom she was addressed. No flattery, no
fashion, could blind her judgment.'

'She knew how to choose a friend well, I am sure,' said Lord Colambre.

'And a friend for life too, I am sure you will allow and she had such
numbers, such strange variety of admirers, as might have puzzled the
choice and turned the brain of any inferior person. Such a succession of
lovers as she has had this summer, ever since you went to Ireland—they
appeared and vanished like figures in a magic-lantern. She had three
noble admirers—rank in three different forms offered themselves. First
came in, hobbling, rank and gout; next, rank and gaming; then rank, Very
high rank, over head and ears in debt. All of these were rejected;
and, as they moved off; I thought Mrs. Broadhurst would have broken
her heart. Next came fashion, with his head, heart, and soul in his
cravat—he quickly made his bow, or rather his nod, and walked off,
taking a pinch of snuff. Then came a man of gallantry, but,' whispered
Miss Nugent, 'there was a mistress in the wood; and my friend could have
nothing to do with that gentleman.'

'Now, if she liked the man, interrupted Lord Clonbrony, 'and I suppose
she did, for all women, but yourself, Grace, like men of gallantry,
Miss Broadhurst was a goose for refusing him on account of the mistress;
because she might have been bought up, and settled with a few thousand
pounds.'

'Be that as it may,' said Miss Nugent; 'my friend did not like, and
would not accept, of the man of gallantry; so he retired and comforted
himself with a copy of verses. Then came a man of wit—but still it was
wit without worth; and presently came "worth without wit." She preferred
"wit and worth united," which she fortunately at last found, Lord
Colambre, in your friend, Sir Arthur Berryl.'

'Grace, my girl!' said her uncle, 'I'm glad to see you've got up your
spirits again, though you were not to be bridesmaid. Well, I hope
you'll be bride soon—I'm sure you ought to be—and you should think of
rewarding that poor Mr. Salisbury, who plagues me to death, whenever he
can catch hold of me, about you. He must have our definitive at last,
you know, Grace.'

A silence ensued, which neither Miss Nugent nor Lord Colambre seemed
willing, or able, to break.

Very good company, faith, you three!—One of ye asleep, and the other
two saying nothing, to keep one awake. Colambre, have you no Dublin
news? Grace, have you no Buxton scandal? What was it Lady Clonbrony told
us you'd tell us, about the oddness of Miss Broadhurst's settling her
marriage? Tell me that, for I love to hear odd things.'

'Perhaps you will not think it odd,' said she. 'One evening—but I
should begin by telling you that three of her admirers, beside Sir
Arthur Berryl, had followed her to Buxton, and had been paying their
court to her all the time we were there; and at last grew impatient for
her decision.'

'Ay, for her definitive!' said Lord Clonbrony. Miss Nugent was put out
again, but resumed—

'So one evening, just before the dancing began, the gentlemen were
all standing round Miss Broadhurst; one of them said, "I wish Miss
Broadhurst would decide—that whoever she dances with to-night should be
her partner for life; what a happy man he would be!"

'"But how can I decide?" said Miss Broadhurst.

'"I wish I had a friend to plead for me!" said one of the suitors,
looking at me.

'"Have you no friend of your own?" said Miss Broadhurst.

'"Plenty of friends," said the gentleman.

'"Plenty!—then you must be a very happy man," replied Miss Broadhurst.
"Come," said she, laughing, "I will dance with that man who can convince
me—that he has, near relations excepted, one true friend in the world!
That man who has made the best friend, I dare say, will make the best
husband!"

'At that moment,' continued Miss Nugent, 'I was certain who would be her
choice. The gentlemen all declared at first that they had abundance
of excellent friends the best friends in the world! but when Miss
Broadhurst cross-examined them, as to what their friends had done for
them, or what they were willing to do, modern friendship dwindled into
a ridiculously small compass. I cannot give you the particulars of the
cross-examination, though it was conducted with great spirit and humour
by Miss Broadhurst; but I can tell you the result—that Sir Arthur
Berryl, by incontrovertible facts, and eloquence warm from the heart,
convinced everybody present that he had the best friend in the world;
and Miss Broadhurst, as he finished speaking, gave him her hand, and he
led her off in triumph—So you see, Lord Colambre, you were at last the
cause of my friend's marriage!'

She turned to Lord Colambre as she spoke these words, with such an
affectionate smile, and such an expression of open, inmost tenderness in
her whole countenance, that our hero could hardly resist the impulse of
his passion—could hardly restrain himself from falling at her feet that
instant, and declaring his love. 'But St. Omar! St. Omar!—It must not
be!'

'I must be gone!' said Lord Clonbrony, pulling out his watch. 'It is
time to go to my club; and poor Terry will wonder what has become of
me.'

Lord Colambre instantly offered to accompany his father; much to Lord
Clonbrony's, and more to Miss Nugent's surprise.

'What!' said she to herself, 'after so long an absence, leave me!—Leave
his mother, with whom he always used to stay—on purpose to avoid me!
What can I have done to displease him? It is clear it was not about Miss
Broadhurst's marriage he was offended; for he looked pleased, and like
himself, whilst I was talking of that; but the moment afterwards, what
a constrained, unintelligible expression of countenance and leaves me to
go to a club which he detests!'

As the gentlemen shut the door on leaving the room, Lady Clonbrony
wakened, and, starting up, exclaimed—

'What's the matter? Are they gone? Is Colambre gone?'

'Yes, ma'am, with my uncle.'

'Very odd! very odd of him to go and leave me! he always used to stay
with me—what did he say about me?'

'Nothing, ma'am.'

'Well, then, I have nothing to say about him, or about anything, indeed,
for I'm excessively tired and stupid—alone in London's as bad as
anywhere else. Ring the bell, and we'll go to bed directly—if you have
no objection, Grace.'

Grace made no objection; Lady Clonbrony went to bed and to sleep in ten
minutes, Miss Nugent went to bed; but she lay awake, considering what
could be the cause of her cousin Colambre's hard unkindness, and of 'his
altered eye.' She was openness itself and she determined that, the
first moment she could speak to him alone, she would at once ask for
an explanation. With this resolution, she rose in the morning, and went
down to the breakfast-room, in hopes of meeting him, as it had formerly
been his custom to be early; and she expected to find him reading in his
usual place.

No—Lord Colambre was not in his accustomed place, reading in the
breakfast-room: nor did he make his appearance till both his father and
mother had been some time at breakfast.

'Good morning to you, my Lord Colambre,' said his mother, in a
reproachful tone, the moment he entered; 'I am much obliged to you for
your company last night.'

'Good morning to you, Colambre,' said his father, in a more jocose tone
of reproach; 'I am obliged to you for your good company last night.'

'Good morning to you, Lord Colambre,' said Miss Nugent; and though she
endeavoured to throw all reproach from her looks, and to let none be
heard in her voice, yet there was a slight tremulous motion in that
voice which struck our hero to the heart.

'I thank you, ma'am, for missing me,' said he, addressing himself to his
mother; 'I stayed away but half an hour; I accompanied my father to St.
James's Street, and when I returned I found that every one had retired
to rest.'

'Oh, was that the case?' said Lady Clonbrony; 'I own I thought it very
unlike you to leave me in that sort of way.'

'And, lest you should be jealous of that half-hour when he was
accompanying me,' said Lord Clonbrony, 'I must remark, that, though I
had his body with me, I had none of his mind; that he left at home with
you ladies, or with some fair one across the water, for the deuce of two
words did he bestow upon me, with all his pretence of accompanying me.'

'Lord Colambre seems to have a fair chance of a pleasant breakfast,'
said Miss Nugent, smiling; 'reproaches on all sides.'

'I have heard none on your side, Grace,' said Lord Clonbrony; 'and
that's the reason, I suppose, he wisely takes his seat beside you. But,
come, we will not badger you any more, my dear boy. We have given him as
fine a complexion amongst us as if he had been out hunting these three
hours; have not we, Grace?'

'When Colambre has been a season or two more in Lon'on, he'll not be
so easily put out of countenance,' said Lady Clonbrony; 'you don't see
young men of fashion here blushing about nothing.'

'No, nor about anything, my dear,' said Lord Clonbrony; 'but that's no
proof they do nothing they ought to blush for.'

'What they do, there's no occasion for ladies to inquire,' said Lady
Clonbrony; 'but this I know, that it's a great disadvantage to a young
man of a certain rank to blush; for no people, who live in a certain
set, ever do; and it is the most opposite thing possible to a certain
air, which, I own, I think Colambre wants; and now that he has done
travelling in Ireland, which is no use in PINT of giving a gentleman
a travelled air, or anything of that sort, I hope he will put himself
under my conduct for next winter's campaign in town.'

Lord Clonbrony looked as if he did not know how to look; and, after
drumming on the table for some seconds, said—

'Colambre, I told you how it would be. That's a fatal hard condition of
yours.'

'Not a hard condition, I hope, my dear father,' said Lord Colambre.

'Hard it must be, since it can't be fulfilled, or won't be fulfilled,
which comes to the same thing,' replied Lord Clonbrony, sighing.

'I am persuaded, sir, that it will be fulfilled,' said Lord Colambre;
'I am persuaded that, when my mother hears the truth, and the whole
truth—when she finds that your happiness, and the happiness of her
whole family, depend upon her yielding her taste on one subject—'

'Oh, I see now what you are about,' cried Lady Clonbrony; 'you are
coming round with your persuasions and prefaces to ask me to give
up Lon'on, and go back with you to Ireland, my lord. You may save
yourselves the trouble, all of you, for no earthly persuasions shall
make me do it. I will never give up my taste on that PINT. My happiness
has a right to be as much considered as your father's, Colambre, or
anybody's; and, in one word, I won't do it,' cried she, rising angrily
from the breakfast-table.