“Why, with a little talking, I think she will.”

“Then what are you losing your time for, man?  Hurry down, and off with her!  I think Dublin’s probably your best ground.”

“Then you think, my lord, I’d betther do it at once?”

“Of course, I do!  What is there to delay you?”

“Why, you see, my lord, the poor girl’s as good as got no friends, and I wouldn’t like it to be thought in the counthry, I’d taken her at a disadvantage.  It’s thrue enough in one way, I’m marrying her for the money; that is, in course, I wouldn’t marry her without it.  And I tould her, out open, before her face, and before the girls, that, av’ she’d ten times as much, I wouldn’t marry her unless I was to be masther, as long as I lived, of everything in my own house, like another man; and I think she liked me the betther for it.  But, for all that, I wouldn’t like to catch her up without having something fair done by the property.”

“The lawyers, Martin, can manage that, afterwards.  When she’s once Mrs Kelly, you can do what you like about the fortune.”

“That’s thrue, my lord.  But I wouldn’t like the bad name I’d get through the counthry av’ I whisked her off without letting her settle anything.  They’d be saying I robbed her, whether I did or no:  and when a thing’s once said, it’s difficult to unsay it.  The like of me, my lord, can’t do things like you noblemen and gentry.  Besides, mother’d never forgive me.  They think, down there, that poor Anty’s simple like; tho’ she’s cute enough, av’ they knew her.  I wouldn’t, for all the money, wish it should be said that Martin Kelly ran off with a fool, and robbed her.  Barry ’d be making her out a dale more simple than she is; and, altogether, my lord, I wouldn’t like it.”

“Well, Martin, perhaps you’re right.  At any rate you’re on the right side.  What is it then you think of doing?”

“Why, I was thinking, my lord, av’ I could get some lawyer here to draw up a deed, just settling all Anty’s property on herself when I die, and on her children, av’ she has any,—­so that I couldn’t spend it you know; she could sign it, and so could I, before we started; and then I’d feel she’d been traited as well as tho’ she’d all the friends in Connaught to her back.”

“And a great deal better, probably.  Well, Martin, I’m no lawyer, but I should think there’d not be much difficulty about that.  Any attorney could do it.”

“But I’d look so quare, my lord, walking into a sthranger’s room and explaining what I wanted—­all about the running away and everything.  To be sure there’s my brother John’s people; they’re attorneys; but it’s about robberies, and hanging, and such things they’re most engaged; and I was thinking, av’ your lordship wouldn’t think it too much throuble to give me a line to your own people; or, may-be, you’d say a word to them explaining what I want.  It’d be the greatest favour in life.”

“I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Kelly.  I’ll go with you, to-morrow, to Mr Blake’s lawyers—­that’s my friend that was sitting here—­and I’ve no doubt we’ll get the matter settled.  The Guinnesses, you know, do all my business, and they’re not lawyers.”