‘It’s a curiosity to go to church at twelve o’clock! If you are so orthodox, let us wait for St. Patrick’s this afternoon.’
‘And in the meantime? It is but eleven this minute, and St. Patrick’s is not till three. There’s nothing to be done but to watch Irish nature in the street. Oh! I never before knew the perfection of Carleton’s illustration. See that woman and her cap, and the man’s round eyebrows and projecting lips with shillelagh written on them. Would it be Sabbath-breaking to perpetrate a sketch?’
But as Ratia was advancing to the window, Lucy suddenly started back, seized her and whirled her away, crying, ‘The wretch! I know him now! I could not make him out last night.’
‘Who?’ exclaimed Rashe, starting determinedly to the window, but detained by the two small but resolute hands clasped round her waist.
‘That black-whiskered valet of Mr. Calthorp’s. If that man has the insolence to dog me and spy me, I’ll not stay in Ireland another day.’
‘Oh, what fun!’ burst out Horatia. ‘It becomes romantic!’
‘Atrocious impertinence!’ said Lucilla, passionately. ‘Why do you stand there laughing?’
‘At you, my dear,’ gasped Ratia, sinking on the sofa in her spasm of mirth. ‘At your reception of chivalrous devotion.’
‘Pretty chivalry to come and spy and beset ladies alone.’
‘He has not beset us yet. Don’t flatter yourself!’