mother.

'Excuse me, ma'am. I have no taste, no judgment, in these things.'

He sometimes paused, and looked at Mr. Soho with a strong inclination
to--But knowing that he should say too much, if he said anything, he
was silent never dared to approach the council table--but continued
walking up and down the room, till he heard a voice, which at once
arrested his attention, and soothed his ire. He approached the table
instantly, and listened, whilst Grace Nugent said everything he wished
to have said, and with all the propriety and delicacy with which he
thought he could not have spoken. He leaned on the table, and fixed his
eyes upon her--years ago, he had seen his cousin--last night, he had
thought her handsome, pleasing, graceful--but now, he saw a new person,
or he saw her in a new light. He marked the superior intelligence,
the animation, the eloquence of her countenance, its variety, whilst
alternately, with arch raillery or grave humour, she played off Mr.
Soho, and made him magnify the ridicule, till it was apparent even to
Lady Clonbrony. He observed the anxiety, lest his mother should expose
her own foibles--he was touched by the respectful, earnest kindness--the
soft tones of persuasion, with which she addressed his mother--the care
not to presume upon her own influence--the good sense, the taste she
showed, yet not displaying her superiority--the address, temper, and
patience, with which she at last accomplished her purpose, and
prevented Lady Clonbrony from doing anything preposterously absurd, or
exorbitantly extravagant.

Lord Colambre was actually sorry when the business was ended--when Mr.
Soho departed--for Grace Nugent was then silent; and it was necessary to
remove his eyes from that countenance, on which he had gazed unobserved.