‘Poor fellow, it was hard.’
‘So he said, and so they believed him. Not that I myself believe he was ever seriously in love with the Irish girl.’
‘And why not?’
‘I may be wrong in my reading of him; but my impression is that he regards marriage as one of those solemn events which should contribute to a man’s worldly fortune. Now an Irish connection could scarcely be the road to this.’
‘What an ungallant admission,’ said she, with a smile. ‘I hope Mr. Walpole is not of your mind.’ After a pause she said, ‘And how was it that in your intimacy he told you nothing of this?’
He shook his head in dissent.
‘Not even of the “entanglement”?’
‘Not even of that. He would speak freely enough of his “egregious blunder,” as he called it, in quitting his career and coming to Ireland; that it was a gross mistake for any man to take up Irish politics as a line in life; that they were puzzles in the present and lead to nothing in the future, and, in fact, that he wished himself back again in Italy every day he lived.’
‘Was there any “entanglement” there also?’
‘I cannot say. On these he made me no confidences.’