e,' replied Lord Colambre.

'Then I wonder how you could think of it, with all you had upon your
mind and heart. When anything's upon my heart, good morning to my head,
it's not worth a lemon. Good-bye to you, and thank you kindly, and all
happiness attend you.'

'Good-bye to you, Sir Terence O'Fay,' said Lord Clonbrony; 'and, since
it's so ordered, I must live without you.'

'Oh! you'll live better without me! my lord; I am not a good liver, I
know, nor the best of all companions for a nobleman, young or old; and
now you'll be rich, and not put to your shifts and your wits, what would
I have to do for you?--Sir Terence O'Fay, you know, was only THE POOR
NOBLEMAN'S FRIEND, and you'll never want to call upon him again, thanks
to your jewel, your Pitt's-di'mond of a son there. So we part here, and
depend upon it you're better without me--that's all my comfort, or my
heart would break. The carriage is waiting this long time, and this
young lover's itching to be off. God bless you both!--that's my last
word.'

They called in Red Lion Square, punctual to the moment, on old Mr.
Reynolds, but his window-shutters were shut; he had been seized in the
night with a violent fit of the gout, which, as he said, held him fast
by the leg. 'But here,' said he, giving Lord Colambre a letter, 'here's
what will do your business without me. Take this written acknowledgment
I have penned for you, and give my grand-daughter her father's letter to
read--it would touch a heart of stone--touched mine--wish I could drag
the mother back out of her grave, to do her justice--all one now. You
see at last I'm not a suspicious rascal, however, for I don't suspect
you of palming a false grand-daughter upon me.'

'Will you,' said Lord Colambre, 'give your grand-daughter leave to come
up to town to you, sir? You would satisfy yourself, at least, as to
what resemblance she may bear to her father; Miss Reynolds will come
instantly, and she will nurse you.'

'No, no; I won't have her come. If she comes, I won't see her--shan't
begin by nursing me--not selfish. As soon as I get rid of this gout, I
shall be my own man, and young again, and I'll soon be after you across
the sea, that shan't stop me; I'll come to--what's the name of your
place in Ireland? and see what likeness I can find to her poor father
in this grand-daughter of mine, that you puffed so finely yesterday. And
let me see whether she will wheedle me as finely as Mrs. Petito would.
Don't g