“Go on, Sir, go on,” said O’Rorke, with a malicious grin.
“In one word, what do you propose?” said Ladarelle, sternly.
“Here’s what I propose, then,” said O’Rorke, pushing the glasses and decanters from him, and planting his arms on the table in a sturdy fashion—“I propose, first of all, that you’ll see Mr. Crowe, the attorney, and give him instructions to defend Malone, and get him the best bar on the circuit. She’ll insist upon that, that’s the first thing. The second is, that you come down to where she is, and tell her that when you heard of her trouble that you started off to help her and stand by her. I don’t mean to say it will be an easy thing to get her to believe it, or even after she believes it to take advantage of it, for she’s prouder than you think. Well, toss your head if you like, but you don’t know her, nor them she comes from; but if you know how to make her think that by what she’ll do she’ll spite the ould man that insulted her, if you could just persuade her that there wasn’t another way in life so sure to break his heart, I think she’d comply, and agree to marry you.”
“Upon my soul, the condescension overcomes me! You think—you actually think—she’d consent to be the wife of a man in such a position as mine!”
“Well, as I said a while ago, it wouldn’t be easy.”
“You don’t seem to know, my good friend, that you are immensely impertinent!”
“I do not,” was the reply, and he gave it calmly and slowly. At the same instant a knock came to the door, and the waiter motioned to O’Rorke that a woman wanted to speak to him outside. “I’m wanted for a few minutes, Sir, down at the place she’s stopping. The woman says she’s very ill, and wandering in her mind. I’ll be back presently.”
“Well, don’t delay too long. I’m between two minds already whether I’ll not go back and give up the whole business.”