George Dashwood, to be sure, and, _la voila_, Miss Lucy. The little
darling rides well, too; how squarely she sits her horse. O'Malley, I've a
weakness there; upon my soul I have."

"Very possible," said I; "I am aware of another friend of mine
participating in the sentiment."

"One Charles O'Malley, of his Majesty's--"

"Nonsense, man; no, no. I mean a very different person, and, for all I can
see, with some reason to hope for success."

"Oh, as to that, we flatter ourselves the thing does not present any very
considerable difficulties."

"As how, pray?"

"Why, of course, like all such matters, a very decisive determination to
be, to do, and to suffer, as Lindley Murray says, carries the day. Tell her
she's an angel every day for three weeks. She may laugh a little at first,
but she'll believe it in the end. Tell her that you have not the slightest
prospect of obtaining her affections, but still persist in loving her.
That, finally, you must die from the effects of despair, etc., but rather
like the notion of it than otherwise. That you know she has no fortune;
that you haven't a sixpence; and who should marry, if people whose position
in the world was similar did not?"

"But halt; pray, how are you to get time and place for all such interesting
conversations?"

"Time and place! Good Heavens, what a question! Is not every hour of the
twenty-four the fittest? Is not every place the most suitable? A sudden
pause in the organ of St. Patrick's did, it is true, catch me once in a
declaration of love, but the choir came in to my aid and drowned the lady's
answer. My dear O'Malley, what could prevent you this instant, if you are
so disposed, from doing the amiable to the darling Lucy there?"

"With the father for an umpire in case we disagreed," said I.

"Not at all. I should soon get rid of him."

"Impossible, my dear friend."

"Come now, just for the sake of convincing your obstinacy. If you like
to say good-by to the little girl without a witness, I'll take off the
he-dragon."

"You don't mean--"

"I do, man; I do mean it." So saying, he drew a crimson silk handkerchief
from his pocket, and fastened it round his waist like an officer's sash.
This done, and telling me to keep in their wake for some minutes, he turned
from me, and was soon concealed by a copse of white-thorn near us.

I had not gone above a hundred yards farther when I heard Sir George's
voice calling for the orderly. I looked and saw Webb