'For what services does your ladyship thank me?'
'You have made me a tavern-jest. I have to thank you for a ballad.'
Mr. Kelly did not deny or argue the point. His pressing business was to know what Lady Oxford intended.
'And on what fortunate event does your ladyship congratulate me?'
'Are there so many fortunate events in the life of an Irish runagate and traitor? On your happy marriage, sir, with the starving apothecary's daughter.'
Mr. Kelly laughed pleasantly.
'Your ladyship is pleased to be facetious. Upon my honour, I know no such woman,' he said, thinking thus to provoke her to disclose her purposes.
Lady Oxford, to his surprise, rose up with a joyful air. 'I knew it,' she cried. 'I knew the story of the girl was the idle talk of the Cocoa Tree. And Lady Mary thought to stab me with the cruel news. Ah, if the honour of my Strephon be pledged, his Smilinda's anger vanishes.'
Here she threw her arms about Kelly's neck, in a very particular embrace, as if she would kiss him. But she refrained from such a caress. Her arms were clasped tighter and yet more tight till Kelly could scarcely breathe, and her cold whispering mouth touched his ear.
'There was, then, no starving apothecary?'