“Very likely not”
“But so it is. There are men who cannot be practical, do what they will. This is above them.”
A sort of grunt gave assent to this proposition; and Stapylton, who began to feel it was a drawn game, arose to take his leave.
“I owe you a very delightful morning, Major,” said he. “I wish I could think it was not to be the last time I was to have this pleasure. Do you ever come up to Kilkenny? Does it ever occur to you to refresh your old mess recollections?”
Had M'Cormick been asked whether he did not occasionally drop in at Holland House, and brush up his faculties by intercourse with the bright spirits who resorted there, he could scarcely have been more astounded. That he, old Dan M'Cormick, should figure at a mess-table,—he, whose wardrobe, a mere skeleton battalion thirty years ago, had never since been recruited,—he should mingle with the gay and splendid young fellows of a “crack” regiment!
“I'd just as soon think of—of—” he hesitated how to measure an unlikelihood— “of marrying a young wife, and taking her off to Paris!”
“And I don't see any absurdity in the project There is certainly a great deal of brilliancy about it!”
“And something bitter too!” croaked out M'Cormick, with a fearful grin.
“Well, if you'll not come to see me, the chances are I'll come over and make you another visit before I leave the neighborhood.” He waited a second or two, not more, for some recognition of this offer; but none came, and he con-tinned: “I'll get you to stroll down with me, and show me this 'Fisherman's Home,' and its strange proprietor.”
“Oh, I 'll do that!” said the Major, who had no objection to a plan which by no possibility could involve himself in any cost.