“Yes, sir; but not my anxiety for your approbation, and my deference for your opinion.”
“Then,” said Sir Ulick, “and without circumlocution or nonsense, I tell you at once, Harry Ormond, that Florence Annaly is the woman in the world I should like best to see your wife.”
“Thank you, sir, for this explicit answer—I am sure towards me nothing can have been more candid and kind than your whole conduct has ever been.”
“That’s true, Harry,” exclaimed Sir Ulick. “Tell me about this duel—you have fought a duel in defence of my conduct and character, I understand, since I saw you. But, my dear fellow, though I am excessively obliged to you, I am exceedingly angry with you: how could you possibly be so hot-heated and silly as to take up any man for relishing the Ulysseana? Bless ye! I relish it myself—I only laugh at such things: believe me, ‘tis The best way.”
“I am sure of it, sir, if one can; and, indeed, I have had pretty good proof that one should despise reports and scandal of all kinds—easier for oneself sometimes than for one’s friends.”
“Yes, my dear Ormond, by the time you have been half as long living in the great and the political world as I have been, you will be quite case-hardened, and will hear your friends abused, without feeling it in the least. Believe me, I once was troubled with a great deal of susceptibility like yours—but after all, ‘tis no bad thing for you to have fought a duel—a feather in your cap with the ladies, and a warning to all impertinent fellows to let you alone—but you were wounded, the newspaper said—I asked you where, three times in my letters—you never condescended to answer me—answer me now, I insist upon it.”
“In my arm, sir—a slight scratch.”
“Slight scratch or not, I must hear all about it—come, tell me exactly how the thing began and ended—tell me all the rascals said of me.—You won’t?—then I’ll tell you: they said, ‘I am the greatest jobber in Ireland—that I do not mind how I throw away the public money—in short, that I am a sad political profligate.’—Well! well! I am sure, after all, they did me the justice to acknowledge, that in private life no man’s honour is more to be depended on.”
“They did do you that justice, sir,” said Ormond; “but pray ask me no farther questions—for, frankly, it is disagreeable to me—and I will tell you no more.”
“That’s frank,” said Sir Ulick, “and I as frankly assure you I am perfectly satisfied.”