‘I think I’ll go to his relief,’ said Walpole; ‘but I own it’s a case for the V.C.’
As Walpole drew nigh, he heard her saying: ‘Marry one of your own race, and you will jog on well enough. Marry a Frenchwoman or a Spaniard, and she’ll lead her own life, and be very well satisfied; but a poor Irish girl, with a fresh heart and a joyous temper—what is to become of her, with your dull habits and your dreary intercourse, your county society and your Chinese manners!’
‘Miss O’Shea is telling me that I must not look for a wife among her countrywomen,’ said Lockwood, with a touching attempt to smile.
‘What I overheard was not encouraging,’ said Walpole; ‘but I think Miss O’Shea takes a low estimate of our social temperament.’
‘Nothing of the kind! All I say is, you’ll do mighty well for each other, or, for aught I know, you might intermarry with the Dutch or the Germans; but it’s a downright shame to unite your slow sluggish spirits with the sparkling brilliancy and impetuous joy of an Irish girl. That’s a union I’d never consent to.’
‘I hope this is no settled resolution,’ said Walpole, speaking in a low whisper; ‘for I want to bespeak your especial influence in my friend’s behalf. Major Lockwood is a most impassioned admirer of Miss Kearney, and has already declared as much to her father.’
‘Come over here, Mat Kearney! come over here this moment!’ cried she, half wild with excitement. ‘What new piece of roguery, what fresh intrigue is this? Will you dare to tell me you had a proposal for Kate, for my own god-daughter, without even so much as telling me?’
‘My dear Miss Betty, be calm, be cool for one minute, and I’ll tell you everything.’
‘Ay, when I’ve found it out, Mat!’
‘I profess I don’t think my friend’s pretensions are discussed with much delicacy, time and place considered,’ said Walpole.