madam; you shall have the best opinion in the known world
upon the subject--that is, as soon as I hear it. Speak out without
hesitation, and conceal nothing."

"Why, sir, the poor dear man before his death--ah, that ever my darling
old Paul should have been taken away from me!--the poor dear man,
before his death--ahem--before his death--O, ah,"--here came another
effusion--"began to--to--to--get jealous of me with a young man in the
neighborhood that--that--I was fond of before I married my dear old
Paul."

"Was the young man in question handsome?"

"Indeed, sir, he was, and is, very handsome--and the impudent minxes of
the parish are throwing their caps at him in dozens."

"But still you are keeping me in the dark."

"Well, sir, I will tell you my difficulty. When poor dear old Paul was
dying, he called me to the bed-side one day, and says to me: 'Biddy,'
says he, 'I'm going to die--and you know I am wealthy; but, in the
meantime, I won't leave you sixpence.' 'It's not the loss of your
money I am thinking of, my darling Paul,' says I, 'but the loss of
yourself"--and I kissed him, and cried. 'You didn' often kiss me that
way before,' said he--' and I know what you're kissing me for now.'
'No,' I said, 'I did not; because I had no notion then of losing you, my
own darling Paul--you don't know how I loved you all along, Paul,' said
I; 'kiss me again, jewel.' 'Now,' said he,' I'm not going to leave you
sixpence, and I'll tell you why--I saw young Charley Mulvany, that you
were courting before I married you--I saw him, I say, through the windy
there, kiss you, with my own eyes, when you thought I was asleep--and
you put your arms about his neck and hugged him,' said he. I must be
particular, sir, in order that you may understand the difficulty I'm
in."

"Proceed, madam," said the conjurer. "If I were young I certainly would
envy Charley Mulvany--but proceed."

"Well, sir, I replied to him: 'Paul, dear,' said I, 'that was a kiss of
friendship--and the reason of it was, that poor Charley was near crying
when he heard that you were going to die and to leave me so lonely.'
'Well,' said he, 'that may be--many a thing may be that's not
likely--and that may be one of them. Go and get a prayer-book, and come
back here.' Well, sir, I got a book and I went back. 'Now,' said he,
'if you swear by the contents of that book that you will never put a
ring on man after my death, I'll leave you my property.' 'Ah, God pardon
you, P