utes, each immersed in his
own thoughts, and each doubtless convinced how little presumption he had to
advise or counsel the other.

'Do you know, O'Shea,' cried Kearney, 'I used to fancy that this Austrian
life of yours was a mere caprice--that you took "a cast," as we call it in
the hunting-field, amongst those fellows to see what they were like and
what sort of an existence was theirs--but that being your aunt's heir, and
with a snug estate that must one day come to you, it was a mere "lark," and
not to be continued beyond a year or two?'

'Not a bit of it. I never presumed to think I should be my aunt's heir--and
now less than ever. Do you know, that even the small pension she has
allowed me hitherto is now about to be withdrawn, and I shall be left to
live on my pay?'

'How much does that mean?'

'A few pounds more or less than you pay for your saddle-horse at livery at
Dycers'.'

'You don't mean that?'

'I do mean it, and even that beggarly pittance is stopped when I am on my
leave; so that at this moment my whole worldly wealth is here,' and he
took from his pocket a handful of loose coin, in which a few gold pieces
glittered amidst a mass of discoloured and smooth-looking silver.

'On my oath, I believe you are the richer man of the two,' cried Kearney,
'for except a few half-crowns on my dressing-table, and some coppers, I
don't believe I am master of a coin with the Queen's image.'

'I say, Kearney, what a horrible take-in we should prove to mothers with
daughters to marry!'

'Not a bit of it. You may impose upon any one else--your tailor, your
bootmaker, even the horsy gent that jobs your cabriolet, but you'll never
cheat the mamma who has the daughter on sale.'

Gorman could not help laughing at the more than ordinary irritability with
which these words were spoken, and charged him at last with having uttered
a personal experience.

'True, after all!' said Dick, half indolently. 'I used to spoon a pretty
girl up in Dublin, ride with her when I could, and dance with her at all
the balls, and a certain chum of mine--a Joe Atlee--of whom you may have
heard--under-took, simply by a series of artful rumours as to my future
prospects--now extolling me as a man of fortune and a fine estate,
to-morrow exhibiting me as a mere pretender with a mock title and mock
income--to determine how I should be treated in this family; and he would
say to me, "Dick, you are going to be asked to dinner on Saturday next