“Jack!” said the Father, “I have just called upon you; but not finding you at home, I guessed very naturally that you were here. While I was standing at your doorway, the village postman came with this letter; and as I knew pretty well where you were, I offered to deliver it to you. Do not stand upon any ceremony with me, but read your letter at once, while Mrs. M’Carthy, Betsey, and I, have a little quiet talk together.”
Jack opened the letter, and read it aloud to Jill. It was from a cousin of his, who had gone to America about ten years ago. He was now a small but substantial and thriving farmer in one of the Western States; and, as he wanted help in his farm, he had written to Jack, offering him a free passage out and good wages. The letter stated that the labour required would be constant and steady—now and then, perhaps, severe—but that the reward would be sweet and sure. It also enclosed an order, on an Irish Bank, for a small sum of money.
Jack looked at the maiden in silence. There were tears in her eyes. Then the letter was handed to Betsey and the mother, and they both read it; a solemn stillness came over the spirits of the family.
“What is to be done?” said Jack.
“Suppose we ask Father M’Callagh to advise us,” said Betsey.
The letter was instantly put into the good man’s hand. He looked over it, and then advancing to where Jack and Jill sat, he took the little hand of the maiden in one of his own, and laid the other in a friendly manner on Jack’s shoulder.
“My advice,” said he, in a firm and cheerful voice, “is—Go! Go! by all means.”
The young people looked up with distressed countenances, but spoke not a word.
“Jack, my friend!” said the old man, cheerfully, “you are at heart a good fellow; but you have some serious faults, which you are now striving bravely to amend. You have made a capital beginning, but as yet it is only a beginning. When we awaken to a sense of duty, we ought to accept opportunities which put our virtue to the proof. Inward resolutions must become outward life. Virtuous sentiments must speak out in virtuous habits; practice must prove theory. Now, Jack, my boy! shew a brave spirit. Accept this trial. Go to America! work! be thrifty! Put by what you can reasonably spare; and in about a twelvemonth, perhaps, you will be able to send for little Jill and make her your wife.”
Jack’s countenance brightened, and so did Jill’s a little, though her tears continued falling; but it was now the widow’s turn to be sorrowful. The thought of her daughter’s going away to marry in a foreign land was hard to bear; but Father M’Callagh comforted her. She came to see that the arrangement was natural and wise; and, after some little hesitation, she gave her consent.