"My dear father," cried Lord Colambre, "do not follow him; stay, for
one moment, and hear your son, your true friend."

Miss Nugent left the room.

"Hear your natural friend for one moment," cried Lord Colambre. "Let
me beseech you, father, not to have recourse to any of these paltry
expedients, but trust your son with the state of your affairs, and we
shall find some honourable means--"

"Yes, yes, yes, very true; when you're of age, Colambre, we'll talk of
it; but nothing can be done till then. We shall get on, we shall get
through, very well, till then, with Terry's assistance; and I must beg
you will not say a word more against Terry--I can't bear it--I can't
bear it--I can't do without him. Pray don't detain me--I can say no
more--except," added he, returning to his usual concluding sentence,
"that there need, at all events, be none of this, if people would but
live upon their own estates, and kill their own mutton." He stole
out of the room, glad to escape, however shabbily, from present
explanation and present pain. There are persons without resource, who,
in difficulties, return always to the same point, and usually to the
same words.

While Lord Colambre was walking up and down the room, much vexed
and disappointed at finding that he could make no impression on his
father's mind, nor obtain his confidence, Lady Clonbrony's woman, Mrs.
Petito, knocked at the door, with a message from her lady, to beg, if
Lord Colambre was _by himself_, he would go to her dressing-room, as
she wished to have a conference with him. He obeyed her summons.