them, and had actually criticised them, in consequence of Sir Horace
Grant, the great traveller's objecting to some of the proportions of
the pillars--Soho had engaged to make a new set, vastly improved, by
Sir Horace's suggestions, for her Grace of Torcaster.

Now Lady Chatterton was the greatest talker extant; and she went
about the rooms telling every body of her acquaintance--and she was
acquainted with every body--how shamefully Soho had imposed upon poor
Lady Clonbrony, protesting she could not forgive the man. "For," said
she, "though the Duchess of Torcaster had been his constant customer
for ages, and his patroness, and all that, yet this does not excuse
him--and Lady Clonbrony's being a stranger, and from Ireland, makes
the thing worse." From Ireland!--that was the unkindest cut of
all--but there was no remedy.

In vain poor Lady Clonbrony followed the dowager about the rooms to
correct this mistake, and to represent, in justice to Mr. Soho, though
he had used her so ill, that he knew she was an Englishwoman. The
dowager was deaf, and no whisper could reach her ear. And when Lady
Clonbrony was obliged to bawl an explanation in her ear, the dowager
only repeated, "In justice to Mr. Soho!--No, no; he has not done
you justice, my dear Lady Clonbrony! and I'll expose him to every
body. Englishwoman!--no, no, no!--Soho could not take you for an
Englishwoman!"

All who secretly envied or ridiculed Lady Clonbrony enjoyed this
scene. The Alhambra hangings, which had been in one short hour before
the admiration of the world, were now regarded by every eye with
contempt, as _cast_ hangings, and every tongue was busy declaiming
against Mr. Soho; every body declared, that from the first, the want