-shaking horror as she
tells of 'that poor dear Carew, and his unfortunate marriage with Heaven
knows whom!' Nor Bob French's astonishment that you, of all men, should
marry out of your sphere,--or, as he calls it, your 'spire.' Nor
how graphically Mrs. Stapleton Harris narrates the manner of your
entanglement: how you fought two brothers, and only gave in to the
superior force of an outraged mamma and the tears of your victim! Nor
fifty other similar stories, in which you figured alternately as the
dupe or the deceived,--the only point of agreement being a universal
reprobation of one who, with all his pretentions to patriotism, should
have entirely forgotten the claims of Irish manufacture."

"And are they all so severe,--so unjust?"

"Very nearly. The only really warm defender I 've heard of you, was one
from whom you probably least expected it."

"And who might that be?"

"Can't you guess, Watty?"

"Harry Blake--Redmond--George Macartney?"

"Confound it, you don't think I mean a man!"

"A woman,--who could she be? Not Sally Talbot; not Lady Jane Rivers;
not--"

"Kitty Dwyer; and I think you might have guessed her before, Watty! It
is rather late, to be sure, to think of it; but my belief is that you
ought to have married that girl."

"She refused me, Dan. She refused me," said my father, growing red,
between shame and a sense of irritation.

"There 's a way of asking that secures a refusal, Watty. Don't tell me
Kitty was not fond of you. I ought to know, for she told me so herself."

"She told you so," cried my father, slowly.

"Ay, did she. It was in the summer-house, down yonder. You remember the
day you gave a great picnic to the Carbiniers; they were ordered off to
India, and you asked them out here to a farewell breakfast. Well, I did
n't know then how badly matters were with me. I thought at least that I
could scrape together some thirteen or fourteen hundreds a year; and I
thought, too, that I had a knowledge of the world that was worth as much
more, and that Kitty Dwyer was just the girl that suited me. She was
never out of humor, could ride anything that ever was backed, did
n't care what she wore, never known to be sick, sulky, nor sorry for
anything; and after a country dance that lasted two hours, and almost
killed everybody but ourselves, I took her a walk round the gardens,
and seated her in the summer-house there. I need n't tell all I said,"
continued he, with a sigh. "I believe I coul