"And now, O'Donahue," said McShane, "if you are not yet tired of my
company, I should like to hear what you have been doing since we parted:
be quite as explicit, but not quite so long-winded, as myself; for I
fear that I tired you."
"I will be quite as explicit, my good fellow; but I have no such
marvellous adventures to relate, and not such a fortunate wind up. I
have been to Bath, to Cheltenham, to Harrogate, to Brighton, and
everywhere else where people meet, and people are met with, who would
not meet or be met with elsewhere. I have seen many nice girls; but the
nice girls were, like myself, almost penniless; and I have seen many
ill-favoured, who had money: the first I could only afford to look at--
the latter I have had some dealings with. I have been refused by one or
two, and I might have married seven or eight; but, somehow or other,
when it came near the point, the vision of a certain angel, now in
heaven, has risen before me, and I have not had the heart or the
heartlessness to proceed. Indeed, I may safely say that I have seen but
one person since we parted who ever made the least impression on me, or
whom I could fancy in any degree to replace her whom I have lost, and
she, I fear, is lost also; so we may as well say no more about it. I
have determined to marry for money, as you well know; but it appears to
me as if there was something which invariably prevents the step being
taken; and, upon my honour, fortune seems so inclined to balk me in my
wishes, that I begin to snap my fingers at her, and am becoming quite
indifferent. I suffer now under the evil of poverty; but it is
impossible to say what other evils may be in store if I were to change
my condition, as the ladies say. Come what will, in one thing I am
determined--that if I marry a girl for money, I will treat her well, and
not let her find it out; and as that may add to the difficulty of a
man's position when he is not in love with his wife, why, all I can say
is, Captain O'Donahue doesn't go cheap--that's decided."
"You're right, my jewel; there's not such a broth of a boy to be picked
up every day in the week. Widows might bid for you, for without
flattery, I think you a moral of a man, and an honour to Old Ireland.
But O'Donahue, begging your pardon, if it's not a secret, who may have
been this lady who appears to have bothered your brains not a little,
since she could you forget somebody else?"
"I met her at the Lakes of Cumberland, and being acquainted with some of
the party, was invited to join them. I was ten days in her company at
Windermere, Ambleside, Derwentwater, and other places. She was a
foreigner, and titled."
"Murder and Irish! you don't say so?"
"Yes; and moreover, as I was informed by those who were with her, has
large property in Poland. She was, in fact, everything that I could
desire--handsome, witty, speaking English and several other languages,
and about two or three and twenty years old."
"And her name, if it's no offence to ask it?"
"Princess Czartorinski."
"And a princess in the bargain? And did you really pretend to make love
to a princess?"
"Am not I an Irishman, McShane? and is a princess anything but a woman,
after all? By the powers! I'd make love to, and run away with, the
Pope himself; if he were made of the same materials as Pope Joan is said
to have been."
"Then, upon my faith, O'Donahue, I believe you--so now go on."
"I not only made love to her, but in making love to her, I got most
terribly singed myself; and I felt, before I quitted her, that if I had
ten thousand a-year, and she was as poor as my dear Judith was, that she
should have taken her place--that's the truth. I thought that I never
could love again, and that my heart was as flinty as a pawnbroker's; but
I found out my mistake when it was too late."
"And did she return you the compliment?"
"That I was not indifferent to her, I may without vanity believe. I had
a five minutes alone with her just before we parted, and I took that
opportunity of saying how much pain it was to part with her, and for
once I told the truth, for I was almost choking when I said it. I'm
convinced that there was sincerity in my face, and that she saw that it
was there; so she replied, `If what you say is true, we shall meet at
Saint Petersburg next winter; good-bye, I shall expect you.'"
"Well, that was as much as to say, come, at all events."
"It was; I stammered out my determination so to do, if possible; but I
felt at the time that my finances rendered it impossible--so there was
an end of that affair. By my hopes of salvation, I'd not only go to
Saint Petersburg, but round the whole world, and to the north pole
afterwards, if I had the means only to see her once more."
"You're in a bad way, O'Donahue; your heart's gone and your money too.
Upon my soul, I pity you; but it's always the case in this world. When
I was a boy, the best and ripest fruit was always on the top of the
wall, and out of my reach. Shall I call to-morrow, and then, if you
please, I'll introduce you to Mrs McShane?"
"I will be happy to see you and your good wife, McShane; health and
happiness to you. Stop, while I ring for my little factotum to let you
out."
"By the bye, a sharp boy that, O'Donahue, with an eye as bright as a
hawk. Where did you pick him up?"
"In Saint James's Park."
"Well, that's an odd place to hire a servant in."
"Do you recollect Rushbrook in my company?"
"To be sure I do--your best soldier, and a famous caterer he was at all
times."
"It is his son."
"And, now I think of it, he's very like him, only somewhat
better-looking."
O'Donahue then acquainted McShane with the circumstances attending his
meeting with Joey, and they separated.
The next day, about the same time, McShane came to see his friend, and
found O'Donahue dressed, and ready to go out with him.
"Now, O'Donahue, you mustn't be in such a hurry to see Mrs McShane, for
I have something to tell you which will make her look more pretty in
your eyes than she otherwise might have done upon first introduction.
Take your chair again, and don't be putting on your gloves yet, while
you listen to a little conversation which took place between us last
night, just before we dropped into the arms of Murfy. I'll pass over
all the questions she asked about you, and all the compliments I paid
you behind your back: because, if I didn't, it would make you blush,
Irishman as you are; but this she did say,--that it was great kindness
on your part to lend me that money, and that she loved you for it; upon
which I replied, I was sorry you were not easy in your mind, and so very
unhappy: upon which she, in course, like every woman, asked me why; and
then I told her merely that it was a love-affair, and a long story, as
if I wished to go to sleep. This made her more curious, so, to oblige
her, I stayed awake, and told her just what you told me, and how the
winter was coming on and you not able to keep your appointment. And
what d'ye think the good soul said? `Now,' says she, `McShane, if you
love me, and have any gratitude to your friend for his former kindness,
you will to-morrow take him money enough, and more than enough, to do as
he wishes, and if he gains his wife he can repay you; if not, the money
is not an object.' `That's very kind of you, dearest,' said I; `but
then will you consent to another thing? for this may prove a difficult
affair, and he may want me with him; and would you have any objection to
that, dearest?' for you see, O'Donahue, I took it into my head that I
might be of the greatest use to you: and, moreover, I should like the
trip, just by way of a little change. `Couldn't he do without you?'
replied she, gravely. `I'm afraid not; and although I thought I was in
barracks for life, and never to leave you again, yet still for his sake,
poor fellow, who has been such a generous fellow to me--' `An' how long
would you be away?' said she. `Why, it might be two months at the
most,' replied I; `but who can tell it to a day?' `Well,' said she, `I
don't like that part of the concern at all; but still, if it is
necessary, as you say, things shouldn't be done by halves,' and then she
sighed, poor soul. `Then I won't go,' says I. `Yes,' says she, after a
pause; `I think it's your duty, and therefore you must.' `I'll do just
what you wish, my soul,' replied I; `but let's talk more about it
to-morrow.' This morning she brought up the subject, and said that she
had made up her mind, and that it should be as we had said last night;
and she went to the drawer and took out three hundred pounds in gold and
notes, and said that if it was not enough, we had only to write for
more. Now ain't she a jewel, O'Donahue? and here's the money."
"McShane, she is a jewel, not because she has given me money, but
because her heart's in the right place, and always will be. But I
really do not like taking you away with me."
"Perhaps you don't think I'd be of any use?"
"Yes; I do not doubt but that you will be, although at present I do not
know how."
"But I do, for I've thought upon it, and I shall take it very unkind if
you don't let me go with you. I want a little divarsion; for you see,
O'Donahue, one must settle down to domestic happiness by degrees."
"Be it so, then; all I fear is, I shall occasion pain to your excellent
wife."
"She has plenty to do, and that drives care away; besides, only consider
the pleasure you'll occasion to her when I come back."
"I forgot that. Now, if you please, I'll call and pay my respects, and
also return my grateful thanks."
"Then, come along."
Captain O'Donahue found Mrs McShane very busily employed supplying her
customers. She was, as McShane had said, a very good-looking woman,
although somewhat corpulent: and there was an amiability, frankness, and
kindness of disposition so expressed in her countenance, that it was
impossible not to feel interested with her. They dined together.
O'Donahue completely established himself in her good graces, and it was
agreed that on that day week the gentlemen should embark for Hamburg,
and proceed on to Petersburg, Joey to go with them as their little
valet.