Lord Colambre was not vain; but love quickly sees love, or foresees
the probability, the possibility, of its existence. He saw that Miss
Nugent might love him tenderly, passionately; but that duty, habit,
the prepossession that it was impossible she could marry her cousin
Colambre,--a prepossession instilled into her by his mother--had
absolutely prevented her from ever yet thinking of him as a lover. He
saw the hazard for her, he felt the danger for himself. Never had she
appeared to him so attractive as at this moment, when he felt the hope
that he could obtain return of love.

"But St. Omar!--Why! why is she a St. Omar?--illegitimate!--'No St.
Omar _sans reproche_.' My wife she cannot be--I will not engage her
affections."

Swift as thoughts in moments of strong feeling pass in the mind
without being put into words, our hero thought all this, and
determined, cost what it would, to act honourably.

"You spoke of my returning to Ireland, my dear Grace. I have not yet
told you my plans."

"Plans! are not you returning with us?" said she, precipitately; "are
not you going to Ireland--home--with us?"

"No:--I am going to serve a campaign or two abroad. I think every
young man in these times--

"Good Heavens! What does this mean? What can you mean?" cried she,
fixing her eyes upon his, as if she would read his very soul. "Why?
what reason?--Oh, tell me the truth--and at once."