let her punish us, before you out with it. 'Twill come
best from you. What did you go down there for? But don't stand answering
questions; come along. Don't heed her countenance at the going in: we've
got the talisman. As to the dressing, it's a perfect trick of
harlequinade, and she'll own it after a dose of Earlsfont. And, by the
way, she's not Mrs. Con, remember; she's Mrs. Adister O'Donnell: and
that's best rolled out to Mistress. She's a worthy woman, but she was
married at forty, and I had to take her shaped as she was, for moulding
her at all was out of the question, and the soft parts of me had to be
the sufferers, to effect a conjunction, for where one won't and can't,
poor t' other must, or the union's a mockery. She was cast in bronze at
her birth, if she wasn't cut in bog-root. Anyhow, you'll study her.
Consider her for my sake. Madam, it should be--madam, call her,
addressing her, madam. She hasn't a taste for jokes, and she chastises
absurdities, and England's the foremost country of the globe, indirect
communication with heaven, and only to be connected with such a country
by the tail of it is a special distinction and a comfort for us; we're
that part of the kite!--but, Patrick, she's a charitable soul; she's a
virtuous woman and an affectionate wife, and doesn't frown to see me turn
off to my place of worship while she drum-majors it away to her own; she
entertains Father Boyle heartily, like the good woman she is to good men;
and unfortunate females too have a friend in her, a real friend--that
they have; and that 's a wonder in a woman chaste as ice. I do respect
her; and I'd like to see the man to favour me with an opportunity of
proving it on him! So you'll not forget, my boy; and prepare for a cold
bath the first five minutes. Out with Earlsfont early after that. All
these things are trifles to an unmarried man. I have to attend to 'm, I
have to be politic and give her elbow-room for her natural angles. 'Tis
the secret of my happiness.'

Priming his kinsman thus up to the door of the diningroom, Captain Con
thrust him in.

Mistress Adister O'Donnell's head rounded as by slow attraction to the
clock. Her disciplined husband signified an equal mixture of contrition
and astonishment at the passing of time. He fell to work upon his plate
in obedience to the immediate policy dictated to him.

The unbending English lady contrasted with her husband so signally that
the oddly united couple appeared yoke