"Well, wonst for all, Mr. Laurence," exclaimed Mistress Carey severely, "what is your business with me?"
"Jist this," rejoined Larry, with a mysterious wink, and lowering his voice—"a letter to the young mistress from"—here he glanced jealously round, and then bringing himself close beside her, he whispered in her ear—"from Mr. O'Connor—whisht—not a word—into her own hand, mind."
The young woman took the letter, read the superscription, and forthwith placed it in her bosom, and rearranged her kerchief.
"Never fear—never fear," said she, "Miss Mary shall have it in half an hour. And how," added she, maliciously, "is Mr. O'Connor? He is a lovely gentleman, is not he?"
"He's uncommonly well in health, the Lord be praised," replied Mr. Toole, with very unaccountable severity.
"Well, for my part," continued the girl, "I never seen the man yet to put beside him—unless, indeed, the young master may be. He's a very pretty young man—and so shocking agreeable."
Mr. Toole nodded a pettish assent, coughed, muttered something to himself, and then inquired when he should come for an answer.
"I'll have an answer to-morrow morning—maybe this evening," pursued she; "but do not be coming so close up to the house. Who knows who might be on our backs in an instant here? I'll walk down whenever I get it to the two mulberries at the old gate; and I'll go there either in the morning at this hour, or else a little before supper-time in the evening."
Mr. Toole, having gazed rapturously at the object of his tenderest aspirations during the delivery of this address, was at its termination so far transported by his feelings, as absolutely to make a kind of indistinct and flurried attempt to kiss her.
"Well, I purtest, this is overbearing," exclaimed the virgin; and at the same time bestowing Mr. Toole a sound box on the ear, she tripped lightly toward the house, leaving her admirer a prey to what are usually termed conflicting emotions.