mind than any thought of being displeased with her; especially just at
this moment, when I am going away, probably, for a considerable time."

"Away!--when?--where?"

"To-morrow morning, for Ireland."

"Ireland! of all places," cried Lady Clonbrony. "What upon earth puts
it into your head to go to Ireland? You do very well to go out of the
way of falling in love ridiculously, since that is the reason of your
going; but what put Ireland into your head, child?"

"I will not presume to ask my mother what put Ireland out of her
head," said Lord Colambre, smiling; "but she will recollect that it is
my native country."

"That was your father's fault, not mine," said Lady Clonbrony; "for
I wished to have been confined in England: but he would have it to
say that his son and heir was born at Clonbrony Castle--and there was
a great argument between him and my uncle, and something about the
Prince of Wales and Caernarvon Castle was thrown in, and that turned
the scale, much against my will; for it was my wish that my son should
be an Englishman born--like myself. But, after all, I don't see that
having the misfortune to be born in a country should tie one to it in
any sort of way; and I should have hoped your English _edication_,
Colambre, would have given you too liberal _idears_ for that--so I
_reely_ don't see why you should go to Ireland merely because it's
your native country."

"Not merely because it is my native country--but I wish to go