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TITLE: TALES AND NOVELS, VOL. 6
AUTHOR: MARIA EDGEWORTH
EBOOK: E06273 (O'Briens Book Cellar)
LANGUAGE: ENGLISH

TALES AND NOVELS

VOL. 6

BY

MARIA EDGEWORTH

THE ABSENTEE.

CHAPTER I.

"Are you to be at Lady Clonbrony's gala next week?" said Lady Langdale
to Mrs. Dareville, whilst they were waiting for their carriages in the
crush-room of the opera-house.

"Oh, yes! every body's to be there, I hear," replied Mrs. Dareville.
"Your ladyship, of course?"

"Why, I don't know; if I possibly can. Lady Clonbrony makes it such
a point with me, that I believe I must look in upon her for a few
minutes. They are going to a prodigious expense on this occasion. Soho
tells me the reception rooms are all to be new furnished, and in the
most magnificent style."

"At what a famous rate those Clonbronies are dashing on," said colonel
Heathcock. "Up to any thing."

"Who are they?--these Clonbronies, that one hears of so much of
late?" said her grace of Torcaster. "Irish absentees, I know. But
how do they support all this enormous expense?" "The son _will_ have
a prodigiously fine estate when some Mr. Quin dies," said Mrs.
Dareville.

"Yes, every body who comes from Ireland _will_ have a fine estate when
somebody dies," said her grace. "But what have they at present?"

"Twenty thousand a year, they say," replied Mrs. Dareville.

"Ten thousand, I believe," cried Lady Langdale.

"Ten thousand, have they?--possibly," said her grace. "I know nothing
about them--have no acquaintance among the Irish. Torcaster knows
something of Lady Clonbrony; she has fastened herself by some means
upon him; but I charge him not to _commit_ me. Positively, I could not
for any body, and much less for that sort of person, extend the circle
of my acquaintance."

"Now that is so cruel of your grace," said Mrs. Dareville, laughing,
"when poor Lady Clonbrony works so hard, and pays so high to get into
certain circles."

"If you knew all she endures, to look, speak, move, breathe, like an
Englishwoman, you would pity her," said Lady Langdale.

"Yes, and you _cawnt_ conceive the _peens_ she _teekes_ to talk of the
_teebles_ and _cheers_, and to thank Q, and with so much _teeste_ to
speak pure English," said Mrs. Dareville.

"Pure cockney, you mean," said Lady Langdale.

"But does Lady Clonbrony expect to pass for English?" said the
duchess.

"Oh, yes! because she is not quite Irish _bred and born_--only bred,
not born," said Mrs. Dareville. "And she could not be five minutes
in your grace's company, before she would tell you that she was
_Henglish_, born in _Hoxfordshire_."

"She must be a vastly amusing personage--I should like to meet her
if one could see and hear her incog.," said the duchess. "And Lord
Clonbrony, what is he?"

"Nothing, nobody," said Mrs. Dareville: "one never even hears of him."

"A tribe of daughters, too, I suppose?"

"No, no," said Lady Langdale; "daughters would be past all endurance."

"There's a cousin, though, a Miss Nugent," said Mrs. Dareville, "that
Lady Clonbrony has with her."

"Best part of her, too," said Colonel Heathcock--"d----d fine
girl!--never saw her look better than at the opera to-night!"

"Fine _complexion_! as Lady Clonbrony says, when she means a high
colour," said Lady Langdale.

"Miss Nugent is not a lady's beauty," said Mrs. Dareville. "Has she
any fortune, colonel?"

"'Pon honour, don't know," said the colonel.

"There's a son, somewhere, is not there?" said Lady Langdale.

"Don't know, 'pon honour," replied the colonel.

"Yes--at Cambridge--not of age yet," said Mrs. Dareville. "Bless me!
here is Lady Clonbrony come back. I thought she was gone half an hour
ago!"

"Mamma," whispered one of Lady Langdale's daughters, leaning between
her mother and Mrs. Dareville, "who is that gentleman that passed us
just now?"

"Which way?"

"Towards the door.--There now, mamma, you can see him. He is speaking
to Lady Clonbrony--to Miss Nugent--now Lady Clonbrony is introducing
him to Miss Broadhurst."

"I see him now," said Lady Langdale, examining him through her glass;
"a very gentlemanlike looking young man indeed."

"Not an Irishman, I am sure, by his manner," said her grace.

"Heathcock!" said Lady Langdale, "who is Miss Broadhurst talking to?"

"Eh! now really--'pon honour--don't know," replied Heathcock.

"And yet he certainly looks like somebody one should know," pursued
Lady Langdale, "though I don't recollect seeing him any where before."

"Really now!" was all the satisfaction she could gain from the
insensible, immovable colonel. However, her ladyship, after sending
a whisper along the line, gained the desired information, that the
young gentleman was Lord Colambre, son, only son, of Lord and Lady
Clonbrony--that he was just come from Cambridge--that he was not yet
of age--that he would be of age within a year; that he would then,
after the death of somebody, come into possession of a fine estate
by the mother's side; "and therefore, Cat'rine, my dear," said she,
turning round to the daughter who had first pointed him out, "you
understand we should never talk about other people's affairs."

"No, mamma, never. I hope to goodness, mamma, Lord Colambre did not
hear what you and Mrs. Dareville were saying!"

"How could he, child?--He was quite at the other end of the world."

"I beg your pardon, ma'am--he was at my elbow, close behind us; but I
never thought about him till I heard somebody say 'my lord--'"

"Good heavens!--I hope he didn't hear."

"But, for my part, I said nothing," cried Lady Langdale.

"And for my part, I said nothing but what every body knows," cried
Mrs. Dareville.

"And for my part, I am guilty only of hearing," said the duchess. "Do,
pray, Colonel Heathcock, have the goodness to see what my people are
about, and what chance we have of getting away to-night."

"The Duchess of Torcaster's carriage stops the way!"--a joyful sound
to Colonel Heathcock and to her grace, and not less agreeable, at this
instant, to Lady Langdale, who, the moment she was disembarrassed
of the duchess, pressed through the crowd to Lady Clonbrony, and
addressing her with smiles and complacency, was charmed to have a
little moment to speak to her--could _not_ sooner get through the
crowd--would certainly do herself the honour to be at her ladyship's
gala. While Lady Langdale spoke, she never seemed to see or think of
any body but Lady Clonbrony, though, all the time, she was intent upon
every motion of Lord Colambre; and whilst she was obliged to listen
with a face of sympathy to a long complaint of Lady Clonbrony's,
about Mr. Soho's want of taste in ottomans, she was vexed to perceive
that his lordship showed no desire to be introduced to her or to
her daughters; but, on the contrary, was standing talking to Miss
Nugent. His mother, at the end of her speech, looked round for
"Colambre"--called him twice before he heard--introduced him to Lady
Langdale, and to Lady Cat'rine, and Lady Anne ----, and to Mrs.
Dareville; to all of whom he bowed with an air of proud coldness,
which gave them reason to regret that their remarks upon his mother
and his family had not been made _sotto voce_.

"Lady Langdale's carriage stops the way!" Lord Colambre made no offer
of his services, notwithstanding a look from his mother. Incapable of
the meanness of voluntarily listening to a conversation not intended
for him to hear, he had, however, been compelled, by the pressure
of the crowd, to remain a few minutes stationary, where he could not
avoid hearing the remarks of the fashionable friends: disdaining
dissimulation, he made no attempt to conceal his displeasure. Perhaps
his vexation was increased by his consciousness that there was some
mixture of truth in their sarcasms. He was sensible that his mother,
in some points--her manners, for instance--was obvious to ridicule and
satire. In Lady Clonbrony's address there was a mixture of constraint,
affectation, and indecision, unusual in a person of her birth, rank,
and knowledge of the world. A natural and unnatural manner seemed
struggling in all her gestures, and in every syllable that she
articulated--a naturally free, familiar, good-natured, precipitate,
Irish manner, had been schooled, and schooled late in life, into a
sober, cold, still, stiff deportment, which she mistook for English.
A strong Hibernian accent she had, with infinite difficulty, changed
into an English tone. Mistaking reverse of wrong for right, she
caricatured the English pronunciation; and the extraordinary precision
of her London phraseology betrayed her not to be a Londoner, as the
man who strove to pass for an Athenian was detected by his Attic

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