to the stalwart growth of man, they become just sensible of a minor deficiency; the tree, if we jump out of it to examine its appearance, should not be all trunk.  Six months of ungrudging unremunerated service, showing devotion to the good cause and perfect candour from first to last, was English, and a poetic touch beyond:  so that John Mattock, if he had finished the sentence instead of lopping it with an interjection, would have said:  ’These Irish fellows, when they’re genuine and first rate!—­are pretty well the pick of the land.’  Perhaps his pause on the interjection expressed a doubt of our getting them genuine.  Mr. O’Donnell was a sort of exceptional Irishman, not devoid of practical ability in a small way—­he did his duties of secretary fairly well; apparently sincere—­he had refrained from courting Jane; an odd creature enough, what with his mixture of impulsiveness and discretion; likeable, pleasant to entertain and talk to; not one of your lunatics concerning his country—­he could listen to an Englishman’s opinion on that head, listen composedly to Rockney, merely seeming to take notes; and Rockney was, as Captain Con termed him, Press Dragoon about Ireland, a trying doctor for a child of the patient.

On the whole, John Mattock could shake his hand heartily when he was leaving our shores.  Patrick was released by Miss Grace Barrow’s discovery at last of a lady capable of filling his place:  a circumstance that he did not pretend to regret.  He relinquished his post and stood aside with the air of a disciplined soldier.  This was at the expiration of seven months and two weeks of service.  Only after he had gone, upon her receiving his first letter from the Continent, did Jane distinguish in herself the warmth of friendliness she felt for him, and know that of all around her she, reproaching every one who had hinted a doubt, had been the most suspicious of his pure simplicity.  It was the vice of her condition to be suspicious of the honesty of men.  She thought of her looks as less attractive than they were; of her wealth she had reason to think that the scent transformed our sad sex into dogs under various disguises.  Remembering her chill once on hearing Patrick in a green lane where they botanised among spring flowers call himself her Irish cousin, as if he had advanced a step and betrayed the hoof, she called him her Irish cousin now in good earnest.  Her nation was retrospectively enthusiastic.  The cordiality of her letter of reply to the wandering Patrick astonished him on the part of so cool a young lady; and Captain Con, when he heard Miss Mattock speak of Patrick to his wife, came to the conclusion that the leery lad had gone a far way toward doing the trick for himself, though Jane said his correspondence was full of the deeds of his brother in India.  She quite sparkled in speaking of this boy.