‘Were you obliged to dance five times with Captain Quin?’ said I; and oh! strange delicious charm of coquetry, I do believe Miss Nora Brady at twenty-three years of age felt a pang of delight in thinking that she had so much power over a guileless lad of fifteen.  Of course she replied that she did not care a fig for Captain Quin:  that he danced prettily, to be sure, and was a pleasant rattle of a man; that he looked well in his regimentals too; and if he chose to ask her to dance, how could she refuse him?

‘But you refused me, Nora.’

‘Oh!  I can dance with you any day,’ answered Miss Nora, with a toss of her head; ’and to dance with your cousin at a ball, looks as if you could find no other partner.  Besides,’ said Nora—­and this was a cruel, unkind cut, which showed what a power she had over me, and how mercilessly she used it,—­’besides, Redmond, Captain Quin’s a man and you are only a boy!’

‘If ever I meet him again,’ I roared out with an oath, ’you shall see which is the best man of the two.  I’ll fight him with sword or with pistol, captain as he is.  A man indeed!  I’ll fight any man—­ every man!  Didn’t I stand up to Mick Brady when I was eleven years old?—­Didn’t I beat Tom Sullivan, the great hulking brute, who is nineteen?—­Didn’t I do for the Scotch usher?  O Nora, it’s cruel of you to sneer at me so!’

But Nora was in the sneering mood that night, and pursued her sarcasms; she pointed out that Captain Quin was already known as a valiant soldier, famous as a man of fashion in London, and that it was mighty well of Redmond to talk and boast of beating ushers and farmers’ boys, but to fight an Englishman was a very different matter.

Then she fell to talk of the invasion, and of military matters in general; of King Frederick (who was called, in those days, the Protestant hero), of Monsieur Thurot and his fleet, of Monsieur Conflans and his squadron, of Minorca, how it was attacked, and where it was; we both agreed it must be in America, and hoped the French might be soundly beaten there.

I sighed after a while (for I was beginning to melt), and said how much I longed to be a soldier; on which Nora recurred to her infallible ’Ah! now, would you leave me, then?  But, sure, you’re not big enough for anything more than a little drummer.’  To which I replied, by swearing that a soldier I would be, and a general too.

As we were chattering in this silly way, we came to a place that has ever since gone by the name of Redmond’s Leap Bridge.  It was an old high bridge, over a stream sufficiently deep and rocky, and as the mare Daisy with her double load was crossing this bridge, Miss Nora, giving a loose to her imagination, and still harping on the military theme (I would lay a wager that she was thinking of Captain Quin)—­ Miss Nora said, ’Suppose now, Redmond, you, who are such a hero, was passing over the bridge, and the inimy on the other side?’

‘I’d draw my sword, and cut my way through them.’