He had not seen--he could not have borne to have beheld--the manner
in which his mother had been treated by some of her guests; but he
observed that she now looked harassed and vexed; and he was provoked
and mortified, by hearing her begging and beseeching some of the saucy
leaders of the ton to oblige her, to do her the favour, to do her the
honour, to stay to supper. It was just ready--actually announced. "No,
they would not, they could not; they were obliged to run away: engaged
to the Duchess of Torcaster."

"Lord Colambre, what is the matter?" said Miss Nugent, going up to
him, as he stood aloof and indignant: "Don't look so like a chafed
lion; others may perhaps read your countenance, as well as I do."

"None can read my mind so well," replied he. "Oh, my dear Grace!--"

"Supper!--Supper!" cried she: "your duty to your neighbour, your hand
to your partner."

The supper room, fitted up at great expense, with scenery to imitate
Vauxhall, opened into a superb greenhouse, lighted with coloured
lamps, a band of music at a distance--every delicacy, every luxury
that could gratify the senses, appeared in profusion. The company
ate and drank--enjoyed themselves--went away--and laughed at their
hostess. Some, indeed, who thought they had been neglected, were in
too bad humour to laugh, but abused her in sober earnest; for Lady
Clonbrony had offended half, nay, three quarters of her guests, by
what they termed her exclusive attention to those very leaders of the
ton, from whom she had suffered so much, and who had made it obvious
to all that they thought they did her too much honour in appearing