Once the officers of the Fencibles gave a grand ball at Kilwangan, to which, as a matter of course, all the ladies of Castle Brady (and a pretty ugly coachful they were) were invited.  I knew to what tortures the odious little flirt of a Nora would put me with her eternal coquetries with the officers, and refused for a long time to be one of the party to the ball.  But she had a way of conquering me, against which all resistance of mine was in vain.  She vowed that riding in a coach always made her ill.  ’And how can I go to the ball,’ said she, ’unless you take me on Daisy behind you on the pillion?’ Daisy was a good blood-mare of my uncle’s, and to such a proposition I could not for my soul say no; so we rode in safety to Kilwangan, and I felt myself as proud as any prince when she promised to dance a country-dance with me.

When the dance was ended, the little ungrateful flirt informed me that she had quite forgotten her engagement; she had actually danced the set with an Englishman!  I have endured torments in my life, but none like that.  She tried to make up for her neglect, but I would not.  Some of the prettiest girls there offered to console me, for I was the best dancer in the room.  I made one attempt, but was too wretched to continue, and so remained alone all night in a state of agony.  I would have played, but I had no money; only the gold piece that my mother bade me always keep in my purse as a gentleman should.  I did not care for drink, or know the dreadful comfort of it in those days; but I thought of killing myself and Nora, and most certainly of making away with Captain Quin!

At last, and at morning, the ball was over.  The rest of our ladies went off in the lumbering creaking old coach; Daisy was brought out, and Miss Nora took her place behind me, which I let her do without a word.  But we were not half-a-mile out of town when she began to try with her coaxing and blandishments to dissipate my ill-humour.

’Sure it’s a bitter night, Redmond dear, and you’ll catch cold without a handkerchief to your neck.’  To this sympathetic remark from the pillion, the saddle made no reply.

’Did you and Miss Clancy have a pleasant evening, Redmond?  You were together, I saw, all night.’  To this the saddle only replied by grinding his teeth, and giving a lash to Daisy.

’O mercy! you’ll make Daisy rear and throw me, you careless creature you:  and you know, Redmond, I’m so timid.’  The pillion had by this got her arm round the saddle’s waist, and perhaps gave it the gentlest squeeze in the world.

‘I hate Miss Clancy, you know I do!’ answers the saddle; ’and I only danced with her because—­because—­the person with whom I intended to dance chose to be engaged the whole night.’

‘Sure there were my sisters,’ said the pillion, now laughing outright in the pride of her conscious superiority; ’and for me, my dear, I had not been in the room five minutes before I was engaged for every single set.’