"Your poor friend's nose is scarcely regimental," said he, "this morning; and as for Fin, he was never remarkable for beauty, so, though they might cut and hack, they could scarcely disfigure him, as Juvenal says—isn't it Juvenal?
"'Vacuus viator cantabit ante Latronem;'
"or in the vernacular:
"'The empty traveller may whistle Before the robber and his pistil' (pistol)."
"There's the Chili vinegar—another morsel of the trout?"
"I thank you; what excellent coffee, Father Malachi!"
"A secret I learned at St. Omer's some thirty years since. Any letters, Bridget?"—to a damsel that entered with a pacquet in her hand.
"A gossoon from Kilrush, y'r reverence, with a bit of a note for the gentleman there."
"For me!—ah, true enough. Harry Lorrequer, Esq. Kilrush—try Carrigaholt." So ran the superscription—the first part being in a lady's handwriting; the latter very like the "rustic paling" of the worthy Mrs. Healy's style. The seal was a large one, bearing a coronet at top, and the motto in old Norman—French, told me it came from Callonby.
With what a trembling hand and beating heart I broke it open, and yet feared to read it—so much of my destiny might be in that simple page. For once in my life my sanguine spirit failed me; my mind could take in but one casualty, that Lady Jane had divulged to her family the nature of my attentions, and that in the letter before me lay a cold mandate of dismissal from her presence for ever.