“Oh, purshuin’ to the ha’p’orth I can settle till I recover o’ this murdherin’ colic!  All’s asthray wid me in the inside.  I’ll see you—­I’ll see you—­Hanim an dioul! what’s this?—­I must be off like a shot—­oh, murdher sheery?—­but—­but—­I’ll see you to-morrow.  In the mane time, I’m—­I’m—­for ever oblaged to you for—­for—­lendin’ me the—­loan of—­oh, by the vestments, I’m a gone man!—­for lendin’ me the loan of the ten guineas—­Oh, I’m gone!”

Phelim disappeared on uttering these words, and his strides on passing out of the house were certainly more rapid and vigorous than those of a man laboring under pain.  In fact, he never looked behind him until one-half the distance between the priest’s house and his father’s cabin had been fairly traversed.

Some misgivings occurred to the old housekeeper, but her vanity, having been revived by Phelim’s blarney, would not permit her to listen to them.  She had, besides, other motive to fortify her faith in his attachment.  First, there was her money, a much larger sum than ever Phelim could expect with any other woman, young or old; again, they were to be called on the following Sunday, and she knew that when a marriage affair proceeds so far, obstruction or disappointment is not to be apprehended.

When Phelim reached home, he found the father returned after having borrowed a full suit of clothes for him.  Sam Appleton on hearing from Larry that Bouncing Phelim was about to get a “Great Match,"* generously lent him coat, waistcoat, hat, and small-clothes.

     * When a country girl is said to have a large fortune,
     the peasantry, when speaking of her in reference to
     matrimony, say she’s a “Great Match.”

When Phelim presented himself at home, he scarcely replied to the queries put to him by his father and mother concerning his interview with the priest.  He sat down, rubbed his hands, scratched his head, rose up, and walked to and fro, in a mood of mind so evidently between mirth and chagrin, that his worthy parents knew not whether to be merry or miserable.

“Phelim,” said the mother, “did you take anything while you wor away?”

“Did I take anything! is it?  Arrah, be asy, ould woman!  Did I take anything!  Faith you may say that!”

“Let us know, anyhow, what’s the matther wid you?’ asked the father.

“Tare-an’-ounze!” exclaimed the son, “what is this for, at all at all?  It’s too killin’ I am, so it is.”

“You’re not lookin’ at Sam Appleton’s clo’es,” said the father, “that he lent you the loan of, hat an’ all?”

“Do you want to put an affront upon me, ould man?  To the divil wid himself an’ his clo’es!  When I wants clo’es I’ll buy them wid my own money!’

“Larry,” observed the mother, “there’s yourself all over—­as proud as a payoock when the sup’s in your head, an’ ’ud spake as big widout the sign o’ money in your pocket, as if you had the rint of an estate.”