“He 'd gain very little by me,” said Mr. Dempsey; “one and eightpence, an old watch, an oyster-knife, and my spectacles, are all the property in my possession—except, when, indeed,” added he, after a pause, “Bob remits the quarter's allowance.”
“It is only just,” said Darcy, gravely, “to a gentleman who takes such pains to inform himself on the affairs of his neighbors, that I should tell you that Mr. Bagenal Daly is not a pirate, nor am I a wrecker. I am sure you will be generous enough for this unasked information not to require of me a more lengthened account either of my friend or myself.”
“You 're in the Revenue, perhaps?” interrupted the undaunted Dempsey; “I thought so when I saw you first.”
Darcy shook his head in dissent.
“Wrong again. Ah! I see it all; the old story. Saw better days—you have just come down here to lie snug and quiet, out of the way of writs and latitats—went too fast—by Jove, that touches myself too! If I hadn't happened to have a grandfather, I 'd have been a rich man this day. Did you ever chance to hear of Dodd and Dempsey, the great wine-merchants? My father was son of Dodd and Dempsey,—that is Dempsey, you know; and it was his father-Sam Dempsey—ruined him.”
“No very uncommon circumstance,” said the Knight, sorrowfully, “for an Irish father.”
“You 've heard the story, I suppose?—of course you have; every one knows it.”
“I rather think not,” said the Knight, who was by no means sorry to turn Mr. Dempsey from cross-examination into mere narrative.
“I 'll tell it to you; I am sure I ought to know it well, I 've heard my father relate it something like a hundred times.”
“I fear I must decline so pleasant a proposal,” said Darcy, smiling. “At this moment I have an engagement.”