was perfectly miraculous to see with
what tenacity he retained a memory of the festivities of old Viceregal
times; they lived, however, in his mind like distinct pictures,
unconnected with all around him. There was a duke in his "garter," and a
duchess in her diamonds; a gorgeously decked table; pineapples that came
from France; and a dessert wine newly arrived from Portugal, some of
which Sir Amyrald Fitzgerald spilled on Madame Carew's dress; at which
she laughed pleasantly, and, in showing the stains, displayed her ankles
to Barry Rutledge, who whispered his Grace that there was not such a
foot and leg in Ireland. Lord Gartymore backed Kitty O'Dwyer's for fifty
pounds, and lost his wager.

"How, then, was the bet decided, Mr. Cotterell?"

"We saw her dance the minuet with Colonel Candler, and my Lord said he
had lost."

"Madame Carew was, then, much admired at Court?"

"She was."

"And a favorite guest, too?"

"We asked her on Wednesdays generally; they were the small dinners, but
many thought them the pleasantest."

"Her Grace noticed her particularly, you say?"

"She did so on one Patrick's night, and said she had never seen such
lace before; and Madame Carew told her she would show her some still
handsomer, for it had been given by the king to her grandmother, whom I
think they called Madame Barry, or Du Barry, or something like that."

Though little in reality beyond the gossiping revelation of a very
old man, Cotterell's evidence tended to show that my mother had been a
welcome and a favored guest in all the best houses of the day, and
that, living as she did in the very centre of scandal, not the slightest
imputation had been ever thrown upon her position or her conduct.

The counsel probably saw that, not having any direct proof of the
marriage,--when, and how, and where solemnized,--it was more than ever
necessary to show the rank my mother had always occupied in the world,
and the respect with which she was ever received in society.

He had--I know not with what, if any, grounds--a little narrative of her
family and birthplace in France, and most conveniently disposed of all
belonging to her,--fortune, friends, and home,--by the events of "that
disastrous Revolution, which swept away not only the nobles of the land,
but every archive and document that had pertained to them."

When he came to my own birth, he was fortunate enough to obtain all the
evidence he wanted. The priest of Rathmullen, w