Tales and Novels Volume VIII Part 35

_Gilb._ (_his face brightening_) For sartin, sir, 'tis the thing in the whole world I should like the best, and be the proudest on, if so be it was in my power, and if so be, sir, you could spare me. (_Holding his master's coat for him to put on._)

_Sir W._ _Could._ spare you, Gilbert!--I _will_ spare you, whether I can conveniently or not. If I had an opportunity of establishing advantageously a man who has served me faithfully for ten years, do you think I would not put myself to a little inconvenience to do it?--Gilbert, you do not know Sir William Hamden.

_Gilb._ Thank you, sir, but I do--and I should be main sorry to leave you, that's sartin, if it was even to be landlord of the best inn in all England--I know I should.

_Sir W._ I believe it.--But, stay--let us understand one another--I am not talking of England, and perhaps you are not thinking of Ireland.

_Gilb._ Yes, sir, but I am.

_Sir W._ You are! I am heartily glad to hear it, for then I can serve you directly. This young heiress, my niece, to whom this town belongs, has a new inn ready built.

_Gilb._ I know, sir.

_Sir W._ Then, Gilbert, write a proposal for this inn, if you wish for it, and I will speak to my niece.

_Gilb._ (_bowing_) I thank you, sir--only I hope I shall not stand in any honest man's light. As to a dishonest man, I can't say I value standing in his light, being that he has no right to have any, as I can see.

_Sir W._ So, Gilbert, you will settle in Ireland at last? I am heartily glad to see you have overcome your prejudices against this country. How has this been brought about?

_Gilb._ Why, sir, the thing was, I didn't know nothing about it, and there was a many lies told backwards and forwards of Ireland, by a many that ought to have known better.

_Sir W._ And now that you have seen with your own eyes, you are happily convinced that in Ireland the men are not all savages.

_Gilb._ No, sir, no ways savage, except in the article of some of them going bare-footed; but the men is good men, most of them.

_Sir W._ And the women? You find that they have not wings on their shoulders.

_Gilb._ No, sir. (_Smiling_) And I'm glad they have not got wings, else they might fly away from us, which I'd be sorry for--some of them.

[_After making this speech, GILBERT steps back, and brushes his master's hat diligently._

_Sir W._ (_aside_) Ha! is that the case? Now I understand it all. 'Tis fair, that Cupid, who blinds so many, should open the eyes of some of his votaries. (_Aloud._) When you set up as landlord in your new inn, Gilbert, (_Gilbert comes forward_) you will want a landlady, shall not you?

_Gilb._ (_falls back, and answers_) I shall, sir, I suppose.

_Sir W._ Miss--what's her name? the daughter of the landlord of the present inn. Miss--what's her name?

_Gilb._ (_answers without coming forward_) Miss Gallagher, sir.

_Sir W._ Miss Gallagher?--A very ugly name!--I think it would be charity to change it, Gilbert.

_Gilb._ (_bashfully_) It would, no doubt, sir.

_Sir W._ She is a very pretty girl.

_Gilb._ She is, sir, no doubt.

[_Cleaning the brush with his hand, bows, and is retiring._

_Sir W._ Gilbert, stay, (_GILBERT returns._) I say, Gilbert, I took particular notice of this Miss Gallagher, as she was speaking to you last Sunday. I thought she seemed to smile upon you, Gilbert.

_Gilb._ (_very bashfully_) I can't say, indeed, sir.

_Sir W._ I don't mean, my good Gilbert, to press you to say any thing that you don't choose to say. It was not from idle curiosity that I asked any questions, but from a sincere desire to serve you in whatever way you like best, Gilbert.

_Gilb._ Oh, dear master! I can't speak, you are so good to me, and always was--too good!--so I say nothing. Only I'm not ungrateful--I know I'm not ungrateful, that I am not! And as to the rest, there's not a thought I have, you'd condescend for to know, but you should know it as soon as my mother--that's to say, as soon as ever I knowed it myself.

But, sir, the thing is this, since you're so good to let me speak to you, sir--

_Sir W._ Speak on, pray, my good fellow.

_Gilb._ Then, sir, the thing is this. There's one girl, they say, has set her thoughts upon me: now I don't like she, because why? I loves another; but I should not choose to say so, on account of its not being over and above civil, and on account of my not knowing yet for sartin whether or not the girl I loves loves me, being I never yet could bring myself to ask her the question. I'd rather not mention her name neither, till I be more at a sartinty. But since you be so kind, sir, if you be so good to give me till this evening, sir, as I have now, with the hopes of the new inn, an independency to offer her, I will take courage, and I shall have her answer soon, sir--and I will let you know with many thanks, sir, whether--whether my heart's broke or not.

[_Exit GILBERT hastily._

_Sir W._ (_alone_) Good, affectionate creature! But who would have thought that out of that piece of wood a lover could be made? This is Cupid's delight!

[_Exit Sir WILLIAM._

SCENE II.

_Parlour of the Inn at Bannow._

_Miss FLORINDA GALLAGHER, sola._

_Various articles of dress on the floor--a looking-gla.s.s propped up on a chest--Miss GALLAGHER is kneeling before the gla.s.s, dressing her long hair, which hangs over her shoulders._

_Miss G._ I don't know what's come to this gla.s.s, that it is not flattering at all _the_ day. The spots and cracks in it is making me look so full of freckles and crow's feet--and my hair, too, that's such a figure, as straight and as stiff and as stubborn as a presbyterian.

See! it won't curl for me: so it is in the papillotes it must be; and that's most genteel.

[_Sound of a drum at a distance--Miss GALLAGHER starts up and listens._

_Miss G._ Hark till I hear! Is not that a drum I hear? Ay, I had always a quick ear for the drum from my cradle. And there's the whole band--but it's only at the turn of the avenue. It's on parade they are. So I'll be dressed and dacent before they are here, I'll engage. And it's my plaid scarf I'll throw over all, iligant for the Highlanders, and I don't doubt but the drum-major will be conquist to it at my feet afore night--and what will Mr. Gilbert say to that? And what matter what he says?--I'm not bound to him, especially as he never popped me the question, being so preposterously bashful, as them Englishmen have the misfortune to be. But that's not my fault any way. And if I happen to find a more shutable match, while he's turning the words in his mouth, who's to blame me?--My father, suppose!--And what matter?--Have not I two hundred pounds of my own, down on the nail, if the worst come to the worst, and why need I be a slave to any man, father or other?--But he'll kill himself soon with the whiskey, poor man, at the rate he's going.

Two gla.s.ses now for his _mornings_, and his _mornings_ are going on all day. There he is, roaring. (_Mr. GALLAGHER heard singing._) You can't come in here, sir.

[_She bolts the door._

_Enter CHRISTY GALLAGHER, kicking the door open._

_Christy._ Can't I, dear? what will hinder me?--Give me the _kay_ of the spirits, if you plase.

_Miss G._ Oh, sir! see how you are walking through all my things.

_Christy._ And they on the floor!--where else should I walk, but on the floor, pray, Miss Gallagher?--Is it, like a fly, on the ceiling you'd have me be, walking with my head upside down, to plase you?