Lord Colambre had waited with great impatience for
an answer to the letter of inquiry which he had written
about Miss Nugent’s mother. A letter from
Lady Clonbrony arrived; he opened it with the greatest
eagerness—passed over ’Rheumatism
warm weather—warm bath—Buxton
balls—Miss Broadhurst—your friend,
Sir Arthur Berryl, very assiduous!’ The name
of Grace Nugent he found at last, and read as follows:
Her mother’s maiden name was st. Omar;
and there was a Faux pas, certainly.
She was, I am told (for it was before my time), educated
at a convent abroad; and there was an affair with
a Captain Reynolds, a young officer, which her friends
were obliged to hush up. She brought an infant
to England with her, and took the name of Reynolds—but
none of that family would acknowledge her; and she
lived in great obscurity, till your uncle Nugent saw,
fell in love with her, and (knowing her whole history)
married her. He adopted the child, gave her his
name, and, after some years, the whole story was forgotten.
Nothing could be more disadvantageous to Grace than
to have it revived: this is the reason we kept
it secret.
Lord Colambre tore the letter to bits.
From the perturbation which Lady Dashfort saw in his
countenance, she guessed the nature of the letter
which he had been reading, and for the arrival of
which he had been so impatient.
‘It has worked!’ said she to herself.
’Pour le Coup Philippe JE
Te TIENS!’
Lord Colambre appeared this day more sensible, than
he had ever yet seemed, to the charms of the fair
Isabel.
‘Many a tennis-ball, and many a heart is caught
at the rebound,’ said Lady Dashfort. ‘Isabel!
now is your time!’
And so it was—or so, perhaps, it would
have been, but for a circumstance which her ladyship,
with all her genius for intrigue, had never taken
into her consideration. Count O’Halloran
came to return the visit which had been paid to him;
and, in the course of conversation, he spoke of the
officers who had been introduced to him, and told Lady
Dashfort that he had heard a report which shocked him
much—he hoped it could not be true—that
one of these officers had introduced his mistress
as his wife to Lady Oranmore, who lived in the neighbourhood.
This officer, it was said, had let Lady Oranmore send
her carriage for this woman; and that she had dined
at Oranmore with her ladyship and her daughters. [Fact.]
’But I cannot believe it! I cannot believe
it to be possible, that any gentleman, that any officer,
could do such a thing!’ said the count.
‘And is this all?’ exclaimed Lady Dashfort.
’Is this all the terrible affair, my good count,
which has brought your face to this prodigious length?’
The count looked at Lady Dashfort with astonishment.
