how it would be: that's a fatal hard condition of yours."

"Not a hard condition, I hope, my dear father," said Lord Colambre.

"Hard it must be, since it can't be fulfilled, or won't be fulfilled,
which comes to the same thing," replied Lord Clonbrony, sighing.

"I am persuaded, sir, that it will be fulfilled," said Lord Colambre;
"I am persuaded that, when my mother hears the truth, and the whole
truth--when she finds that your happiness, and the happiness of her
whole family, depend upon her yielding her taste on one subject--"

"Oh, I see now what you are about," cried Lady Clonbrony; "you are
coming round with your persuasions and prefaces to ask me to give
up Lon'on, and go back with you to Ireland, my lord. You may save
yourselves the trouble, all of you; for no earthly persuasions shall
make me do it. I will never give up my taste on that _pint_. My
happiness has a right to be as much considered as your father's,
Colambre, or anybody's; and, in one word, I won't do it," cried she,
rising angrily from the breakfast table.

"There! did not I tell you how it would be?" cried Lord Clonbrony.

"My mother has not heard me yet," said Lord Colambre, laying his hand
upon his mother's arm, as she attempted to pass: "hear me, madam, for
your own sake. You do not know what will happen, this very day--this
very hour, perhaps--if you do not listen to me."

"And what will happen?" said Lady Clonbrony, stopping short.