The agent was always very civil to me, and took a deal of notice of my son Jason, who, though he be my son, was a good scholar from his birth, and a very cute lad.  Seeing he was a good clerk, the agent gave him the rent accounts to copy, which he did for nothing at first, being always proud to serve the family.

By-and-by, a good farm fell vacant, and my son put in a proposal for it.  Why not?  The master, knowing no more of the land than a child unborn, wrote over, leaving it to the agent, and he must send over L200 by return post.  So my son’s proposal was just the thing, and he a good tenant, and he got a promise of abatement after the first year for advancing the half-year’s rent to make up the L200, and my master was satisfied.  The agent told us then, as a great secret, that Sir Kit was a little too fond of play.

At last, at Christmas, the agent wrote he could raise no more money, anyhow, and desired to resign the agency.  My son, Jason, who had corresponded privately with Sir Kit, was requested to take over the accounts forthwith.  His honour also condescended to tell us he was going to be married in a fortnight to the grandest heiress in England, and had immediate occasion for L200 for travelling expenses home to Castle Rackrent, where he intended to be early next month.  We soon saw his marriage in the paper, and news came of him and his bride being in Dublin on their way home.  We had bonfires all over the country, expecting them all day, and were just thinking of giving them up for the night, when the carriage came thundering up.  I got the first sight of the bride, and greatly shocked I was, for she was little better than a blackamoor.  “You’re kindly welcome, my lady,” I says; but neither spoke a word, nor did he so much as hand her up the steps.

I concluded she could not speak English, and was from foreign parts, so I left her to herself, and went down to the servants’ hall to learn something about her.  Sir Kit’s own man told us, at last, that she might well be a great fortune, for she was a Jewess, by all accounts.  I had never seen any of that tribe before, and could only gather that she could not abide pork nor sausages, and went neither to church nor mass.  “Mercy upon his honour’s poor soul,” thought I. But when, after this, strange gentleman’s servants came and began to talk about the bride, I took care to put the best foot foremost, and passed her for a nabob.

I saw plain enough, next morning, how things were between Sir Kit and his lady, though they went arm-in-arm to look at the building.

“Old Thady, how do you do?” says my master, just as he used to do, but I could see he was not well pleased, and my heart was in my mouth as I walked after them.

There were no balls, no dinners, no doings.  Sir Kit’s gentleman told me it was all my lady’s fault, because she was so obstinate about the cross.

“What cross?” says I.  “Is it about her being a heretic?”