“Well, sure you have your own way,” replied his wife, “but you wor ever and always self-willed and headstrong. However, it's all the mane blood that's in you; it breaks your heart to see your son a gintleman; but in spite of your strong brogues and felt caubeen, a gentleman he is, and a gentleman he will be, an' that's all I have to say about it. You'll tache your pet to hate his brother, I'll go bail.”
“No, indeed, Rosha,” he replied, “I know my duty to God and my childre' betther than to turn them against one another; but it's only a proof of how little you know about Edward and his warm and lovin' heart, when you spake as you do.”
This indeed was true. Edward Burke was but a short time at home when he saw clearly how matters stood in the family. He was in fact a youth of a most affectionate and generous disposition, and instead of attempting to make the breach wider, as Hycy had he been in his place would have done, he did everything in his power to put the parties into a good state of feeling with each other, and to preserve peace and harmony in the family.
One morning, a few days after Hycy's rejection by Miss Clinton, they were all at breakfast, “the accomplished” being in one of his musical and polite moods, his father bland but sarcastic, and Edward in a state of actual pain on witnessing the wilful disrespect or rather contempt that was implied by Hycy towards his parents. “Well, Ned,” said his father, “didn't we spend a pleasant evenin' in Gerald Cavanagh's last night? Isn't Kathleen a darlin'?”
“She is a delightful girl,” replied Edward, “it can't be denied; indeed, I don't think I ever saw so beautiful a girl, and as for her figure, it is perfect—perfect.”
“Ay,” said the father, “and it's she that knows the difference between a decent sensible boy and a—gintleman—a highflyer. She was both kind and civil to you, Ned.”
“I don't know as to the kindness,” replied Edward; “but she was certainly civil and agreeable, and I don't think it's in her nature to be anything else.”
“Except when she ought,” said his father; “but listen, Ned—dress yourself up, get a buff waistcoat, a green jockey coat, a riding whip, and a pair o' shinin' top-boots, titivate yourself up like a dandy, then go to her wid lavendher water on your pocket-handkerchy, an' you'll see how she'll settle you. Be my sowl, you'll be the happy boy when you get her; don't you think so, Misther Hycy?”
“Unquestionably, Mr. Burke, when you speak you shame an Oracle; as for Master Ned—why—
“'I'm owre young,—I'm owre young,
I'm owre young to marry yet,
I'm owre young, 'twould be a sin
To take me from my Daddy yet.'