‘And is it true old Tresham’s going to join our club at last?’

’He! hang him! he’s like a brute beast, and never drinks but when he’s dry, and then small beer.  But, I forgot to tell you, by all that’s lovely, they do say the charming Magnolia—­a fine bouncing girl that—­is all but betrothed to Lieutenant O’Flaherty.’

Devereux laughed, and thus encouraged, Toole went on, with a wink and a whisper.

’Why, the night of the ball, you know, he saw her home, and they say he kissed her—­by Bacchus, on both sides of the face,—­at the door there, under the porch; and you know, if he had not a right, she’d a-knocked him down.’

’Psha! the girl’s a Christian, and when she’s smacked on one cheek she turns the other.  And what says the major to it?’

’Why, as it happened, he opened the door precisely as the thing occurred; and he wished Lieutenant O’Flaherty good-night, and paid him a visit in the morning.  And they say ’tis all satisfactory; and—­by Jove! ‘tis good punch.’  And Mrs. Irons entered with a china bowl on a tray.

CHAPTER LXIX.

CONCERNING A SECOND HURRICANE THAT RAGED IN CAPTAIN DEVEREUX’S DRAWING-ROOM, AND RELATING HOW MRS. IRONS WAS ATTACKED WITH A SORT OF CHOKING IN HER BED.

And the china bowl, with its silver ladle, and fine fragrance of lemon and old malt whiskey, and a social pair of glasses, were placed on the table by fair Mistress Irons; and Devereux filled his glass, and Toole did likewise; and the little doctor rattled on; and Devereux threw in his word, and finally sang a song.  ’Twas a ballad, with little in the words; but the air was sweet and plaintive, and so was the singer’s voice:—­

      ’A star so High,
      In my sad sky,
  I’ve early loved and late: 
      A clear lone star,
      Serene and far,
  Doth rule my wayward fate.

      ‘Tho’ dark and chill
      The night be still,
  A light comes up for me: 
      In eastern skies
      My star doth rise,
  And fortune dawns for me.

  ’And proud and bold,
      My way I hold;
  For o’er me high I see,
      In night’s deep blue,
      My star shine true,
  And fortune beams on me.

      ’Now onward still,
      Thro’ dark and chill,
  My lonely way must be;
      In vain regret,
      My star will set,
  And fortune’s dark for me.

      ’And whether glad,
      Or proud, or sad,
  Or howsoe’er I be;
      In dawn or noon,
      Or setting soon,
  My star, I’ll follow thee.’