The things she spoke of were such as are to be found in the sitting-rooms of most sailors’ wives. There were elephants’ teeth, with figures of men and women carved on them, very cleverly copied from very coarse prints; and there were shells of many shapes, and lumps of corals, and bits of seaweed, with the small model of a ship, very much battered, and her yards scandalised, as if to mourn for her builder’s loss. She was placed on a stand covered with small shells, and at either end were bunches of shell flowers, doubtlessly very tasteful according to the widow’s idea. The room was hung round with coloured prints, which even then I did not think very well executed. One was a sailor returning from a voyage, with bags of gold at his back and sticking out of his pockets. I wondered whether I should come back in that way; but as I did not know the value of money, there was nothing very exciting in it to me. There were two under which was written “The lover’s meeting.” In both cases the lady was dressed extravagantly fine, with a bonnet and very broad ribbons; and the lover had on the widest trousers I ever saw. Another represented a lady watching for her lover, whose ship was seen in the distance; and one more I remember was a seaman cast upon the shore, with a female bending over him; while there were several pictures of ships, some of which were on the tops of waves running truly mountains high, and curling over in a very terrific way indeed. I had time to inspect all these things while my landlady was getting my bed-room ready. I had not dined; and when Larry, who was rather longer than I had expected, returned, I found that he had purchased all sorts of necessary provisions, and that they only wanted cooking for me to eat them. While he laid the cloth, the landlady performed the office of cook; and in a little time a very nice dinner of veal cutlets, ham, and fried potatoes made its appearance. When Larry had nothing to do but to look about him, I observed him fix his eyes in a strange sort of way on the model of the ship, and then at the shells and the other things in the room. At last he turned to the landlady.
“Please, marm,” said he, “where did you get all them things from?”
“Oh, sir,” answered the landlady, “they were given to me by my poor dear man, who has been dead and gone this many a long year.”
“May I be bold to ask, and no offence, what is your name, marm?” said Larry.
“My husband was an Irishman, like you, and my name is Harrigan,” answered the landlady, who held at the moment a jug of beer, from which she was going to pour me out a tumblerful.
“Faith, you may well say that he was like me, marm, for, curious enough, that’s my name too,” answered Larry.
“Your name!” exclaimed the landlady, standing still and looking doubtfully at him.
“Yes, my name—it is, indeed,” said Larry. “And may I ask what is your Christian name, marm?”
“Jane is my name, and yours is Lawrence!” shrieked Mrs Harrigan, letting fall the jug of beer, which was smashed to pieces, and rushing towards him.
“By the pipers, you’re right now; but if you’re yourself—my own Jane Harrigan, whom I thought dead and buried, or married long ago to another man, it’s the happiest day of my life that I’ve seen for a long time,” cried Larry, throwing his arms round her and giving her a hug which I thought would have squeezed all the breath out of her body.