"Why, to a young widow from England, with only one child, and worth thirty-thousand pounds sterling—think of that!"
"Indeed! Well: I wish you joy, doctor. It's a long road that never turns. But I hope there's no doubt"—
"There's no doubt or mistake in the matter. The lady was the widow of an Irish captain, and"—
"The lady in mourning, I presume, to whom you seemed so attentive up town, a few weeks ago? But whence the necessity of keeping so dark upon the subject?"
"I thought it like enough you'd think I was behaving kinder-curious-like. But her husband was lately dead, and she didn't care to see any body just then;—and besides, I was determined nobody should know what was going on betwixt us, till the job was done."
"A rich widow, then, and thirty-thousand pounds—sterling, did you say?"
"Why, to be sure I did."
"And is she young and handsome?"
"She's comfortably good looking—though I don't know that you would say raly handsome. But the thirty-thousand pounds, you know——"
"Very true: But who would have ever dreamed of your turning fortune-hunter?"