“Is it possible?” exclaimed the Lieutenant.
“It's as true as you're born, if Corney Carolan is to be believed on his oath. I wouldn't take his word; but when a man swears to what he says, it's not dacent to discredit him, is it?”
“Certainly not,” replied the Lieutenant. “And so Peggy is living within a mile and a half of Thurles, is she?—unmarried, too, you say?”
“She is; and I don't think I'd be doing my duty if I didn't tell you. I'll just take this present opportunity of saying, too, that as you think of settling, and as you're still well-looking, and I'm broke down out-and-out, so that she wouldn't look upon me,—I'd sacrifice nothing,—that is, I wouldn't intirely brake my heart if you wint and married her.”
“James Fitzgerald,” said the Lieutenant, “you are still the noble fellow you were thirty years ago. You have forestalled me on this occasion: I assure you that I was just working myself up to say to you what you have said to me. You are still a bachelor, Jimmy, and, as far as I am concerned, Miss Margaret M'Carthy is quite at your service.”
“Thank you kindly, and good luck to you for this and all that's past,” said Jimmy; “but, to spake my mind,—I never cared much about Peg.”
“Nor I, upon my honour!” exclaimed the Lieutenant.
“I was glad of an excuse to be rid of her,” quoth Fitzgerald.
“Precisely my own case, I protest,” said the Lieutenant.
“And I never cared one half so little for her, as I do just now.”