Tales and Novels Volume VI Part 39

Lord Colambre joyfully thanked his friend for this promise.

"Nay, it is to indulge myself. I long to see you happy--long to behold the choice of such a heart as yours. Pray do not steal a march upon me--let me know in time. I will leave every thing--even my friend the minister's secret expedition--for your wedding. But I trust I shall be in time."

"a.s.suredly you will, my dear count; if ever that wedding--"

"_If_," repeated the count.

"_If_," repeated Lord Colambre. "Obstacles which, when we last parted, appeared to me invincible, prevented my having ever even attempted to make an impression on the heart of the woman I love: and if you knew her, count, as well as I do, you would know that her love could 'not unsought be won.'"

"Of that I cannot doubt, or she would not be your choice; but when her love is sought, we have every reason to hope," said the count, smiling, "that it may, because it ought to be, won by tried honour and affection. I only require to be left in hope."

"Well, I leave you hope," said Lord Colambre: "Miss Nugent--Miss Reynolds, I should say, has been in the habit of considering a union with me as impossible; my mother early instilled this idea into her mind. Miss Nugent thought that duty forbad her to think of me; she told me so: I have seen it in all her conduct and manners. The barriers of habit, the ideas of duty, cannot, ought not, to be thrown down, or suddenly changed, in a well-regulated female mind. And you, I am sure, know enough of the best female hearts, to be aware that time--"

"Well, well, let this dear good charmer take her own time, provided there's none given to affectation, or prudery, or coquetry; and from all these, of course, she must be free; and of course I must be content. Adieu."

CHAPTER XVII.

As Lord Colambre was returning home, he was overtaken by Sir Terence O'Fay.

"Well, my lord," cried Sir Terence, out of breath, "you have led me a pretty dance all over the town: here's a letter somewhere down in my safe pocket for you, which has cost me trouble enough. Phoo! where is it now?--it's from Miss Nugent," said he, holding up the letter. The direction to Grosvenor-square, London, had been scratched out; and it had been re-directed by Sir Terence to the Lord Viscount Colambre, at Sir James Brooke's, Bart., Brookwood, Huntingdons.h.i.+re, or elsewhere, with speed, "But the more haste the worse speed; for away it went to Brookwood, Huntingdons.h.i.+re, where I knew, if any where, you was to be found; but, as fate and the post would have it, there the letter went coursing after you, while you were running round, and _back_, and forwards, and every where, I understand, to Toddrington and Wrestham, and where not, through all them English places, where there's no cross-post: so I took it for granted that it found its way to the dead-letter office, or was sticking up across a pane in the d----d postmaster's window at Huntingdon, for the whole town to see, and it a love-letter, and some puppy to claim it, under false pretence; and you all the time without it, and it might breed a coolness betwixt you and Miss Nugent."

"But, my dear Sir Terence, give me the letter now you have me."

"Oh, my dear lord, if you knew what a race I have had, missing you here by five minutes, and there by five seconds--but I have you at last, and you have it--and I'm paid this minute for all I liquidated of my substance, by the pleasure I have in seeing you crack the seal and read it. But take care you don't tumble over the orange-woman--orange barrows are a great nuisance, when one's studying a letter in the streets of London, or the metropolis. But never heed; stick to my arm, and I'll guide you, like a blind man, safe through the thick of them."

Miss Nugent's letter, which Lord Colambre read in spite of the jostling of pa.s.sengers, and the incessant talking of Sir Terence, was as follows:--

"Let me not be the cause of banis.h.i.+ng you from your home and your country, where you would do so much good, and make so many happy.

Let me not be the cause of your breaking your promise to your mother; of your disappointing my dear aunt so cruelly, who has complied with all our wishes, and who sacrifices, to oblige us, her favourite tastes. How could she be ever happy in Ireland--how could Clonbrony Castle be a home to her without her son? If you take away all she had of amus.e.m.e.nt and _pleasure_, as it is called, are not you bound to give her, in their stead, that domestic happiness, which she can enjoy only with you, and by your means? If, instead of living with her, you go into the army, she will be in daily, nightly anxiety and alarm about you; and her son will, instead of being a comfort, be a source of torment to her.

"I will hope that you will do now, as you have always. .h.i.therto done, on every occasion where I have seen you act, what is right, and just, and kind. Come here on the day you promised my aunt you would; before that time I shall be in Cambridges.h.i.+re, with my friend Lady Berryl; she is so good as to come to Buxton for me--I shall remain with her, instead of returning to Ireland. I have explained my reasons to my dear aunt--Could I have any concealment from her, to whom, from my earliest childhood, I owe every thing that kindness and affection could give? She is satisfied--she consents to my living henceforward with Lady Berryl. Let me have the pleasure of seeing by your conduct, that you approve of mine.

"Your affectionate cousin

"and friend,

"GRACE NUGENT."

This letter, as may be imagined by those who, like him, are capable of feeling honourable and generous conduct, gave our hero exquisite pleasure. Poor, good-natured Sir Terence O'Fay enjoyed his lords.h.i.+p's delight; and forgot himself so completely, that he never even inquired whether Lord Colambre had thought of an affair on which he had spoken to him some time before, and which materially concerned Sir Terence's interest. The next morning, when the carriage was at the door, and Sir Terence was just taking leave of his friend Lord Clonbrony, and actually in tears, wis.h.i.+ng them all manner of happiness, though he said there was none left now in London, or the wide world even, for him--Lord Colambre went up to him, and said, "Sir Terence, you have never inquired whether I have done your business."

"Oh, my dear, I'm not thinking of that now--time enough by the post--I can write after you; but my thoughts won't turn for me to business now--no matter."

"Your business is done," replied Lord Colambre.

"Then I wonder how you could think of it, with all you had upon your mind and heart. When any thing's upon my heart, good morning to my head, it's not worth a lemon. Good-bye to you, and thank you kindly, and all happiness attend you."

"Good-bye to you, Sir Terence O'Fay," said Lord Clonbrony; "and, since it's so ordered, I must live without you."

"Oh! you'll live better without me, my lord; I am not a good liver, I know, nor the best of all companions, for a n.o.bleman, young or old; and now you'll be rich, and not put to your s.h.i.+fts and your wits, what would I have to do for you?--Sir Terence O'Fay, you know, was only _the poor n.o.bleman's friend_, and you'll never want to call upon him again, thanks to your jewel, your Pitt's-diamond of a son there. So we part here, and depend upon it you're better without me--that's all my comfort, or my heart would break. The carriage is waiting this long time, and this young lover's aching to be off. G.o.d bless you both!--that's my last word."

They called in Red Lion-square, punctual to the moment, on old Mr.

Reynolds, but his window-shutters were shut; he had been seized in the night with a violent fit of the gout, which, as he said, held him fast by the leg. "But here," said he, giving Lord Colambre a letter, "here's what will do your business without me. Take this written acknowledgment I have penned for you, and give my grand-daughter her father's letter to read--it would touch a heart of stone--touched mine--wish I could drag the mother back out of her grave, to do her justice--all one now. You see, at last, I'm not a suspicious rascal, however, for I don't suspect you of palming a false grand-daughter upon me."

"Will you," said Lord Colambre, "give your grand-daughter leave to come up to town to you, sir! You would satisfy yourself, at least, as to what resemblance she may bear to her father: Miss Reynolds will come instantly, and she will nurse you."

"No, no; I won't have her come. If she comes, I won't see her--sha'n't begin by nursing me--not selfish. As soon as I get rid of this gout, I shall be my own man, and young again, and I'll soon be after you across the sea, that sha'n't stop me: I'll come to--what's the name of your place in Ireland?--and see what likeness I can find to her poor father in this grand-daughter of mine, that you puffed so finely yesterday. And let me see whether she will wheedle me as finely as Mrs. Pet.i.to would. Don't get ready your marriage settlements, do you hear? till you have seen my will, which I shall sign at--what's the name of your place? Write it down there; there's pen and ink; and leave me, for the twinge is coming, and I shall roar."

"Will you permit me, sir, to leave my own servant with you to take care of you? I can answer for his attention and fidelity."

"Let me see his face, and I'll tell you."

Lord Colambre's servant was summoned.

"Yes, I like his face. G.o.d bless you!--Leave me."

Lord Colambre gave his servant a charge to bear with Mr. Reynolds'

rough manner and temper, and to pay the poor old gentleman every possible attention. Then our hero proceeded with his father on his journey, and on this journey nothing happened worthy of note. On his first perusal of the letter from Grace, Lord Colambre had feared that she would have left Buxton with Lady Berryl before he could reach it; but, upon recollection, he hoped that the few lines he had written, addressed to his mother _and_ Miss Nugent, with the a.s.surance that he should be with them on Wednesday, would be sufficient to show her that some great change had happened, and consequently sufficient to prevent her from quitting her aunt, till she could know whether such a separation would be necessary. He argued wisely, more wisely than Grace had reasoned; for, notwithstanding this note, she would have left Buxton before his arrival, but for Lady Berryl's strength of mind, and positive determination not to set out with her till Lord Colambre should arrive to explain. In the interval, poor Grace was, indeed, in an anxious state of suspense; and her uncertainty, whether she was doing right or wrong, by staying to see Lord Colambre, tormented her most.

"My dear, you cannot help yourself: be quiet," said Lady Berryl: "I will take the whole upon my conscience; and I hope my conscience may never have any thing worse to answer for."

Grace was the first person who, from her window, saw Lord Colambre, the instant the carriage drove to the door. She ran to her friend Lady Berryl's apartment. "He is come!--Now, take me away."

"Not yet, my sweet friend! Lie down upon this sofa, if you please; and keep yourself tranquil, whilst I go and see what you ought to do; and depend upon me for a true friend, in whose mind, as in your own, duty is the first object."

"I depend on you entirely," said Grace, sinking down on the sofa: "and you see I obey you!"

"Many thanks to you for lying down, when you can't stand."

Lady Berryl went to Lord Clonbrony's apartment; she was met by Sir Arthur. "Come, my love! come quick!--Lord Colambre is arrived."

"I know it; and does he go to Ireland? Speak instantly, that I may tell Grace Nugent."

"You can tell her nothing yet, my love; for we know nothing. Lord Colambre will not say a word till you come; but I know, by his countenance, that he has good and extraordinary news."

They pa.s.sed rapidly along the pa.s.sage to Lady Clonbrony's room.

"Oh, my dear, dear Lady Berryl, come! or I shall die with impatience,"

cried Lady Clonbrony, in a voice and manner between laughing and crying. "There, now you have congratulated, are very happy, and very glad, and all that--now, for mercy's sake, sit down, Lord Clonbrony!

for Heaven's sake, sit down--beside me here--or any where! Now, Colambre, begin; and tell us all at once!"

But as nothing is so tedious as a twice told tale, Lord Colambre's narrative need not here be repeated. He began with Count O'Halloran's visit, immediately after Lady Clonbrony had left London; and went through the history of the discovery that Captain Reynolds was the husband of Miss St. Omar, and the father of Grace: the dying acknowledgment of his marriage; the packet delivered by Count O'Halloran to the careless amba.s.sador--how recovered, by the a.s.sistance of his executor, Sir James Brooke; the travels from Wrestham to Toddrington, and thence to Red Lion-square; the interview with old Reynolds, and its final result: all was related as succinctly as the impatient curiosity of Lord Colambre's auditors could desire.

"Oh, wonder upon wonder! and joy upon joy!" cried Lady Clonbrony. "So my darling Grace is as legitimate as I am, and an heiress after all.

Where is she? where is she? In your room, Lady Berryl?--Oh, Colambre!