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Updated: May 4, 2025
"Why, Doctor Doctor Finucane," cried I, "is this possible? were you really the inside in the mail last night." "Devil a doubt of it, Mr. Lorrequer; and may I make bould to ask, were you the outside?" "Then what, may I beg to know, did you mean by your damned story about Barney Doyle, and the hydrophobia, and Cusack Rooney's thumb eh?"
Having expressed, in fitting terms, my full sense of obligation for the delicate flattery with which he pictured me as "Old Lorrequer" to the Lady, I begged a more detailed account of his plan, which I shall shorten for my reader's sake, by the following brief expose.
"Go it, Pat go it, Pat," said Guy, over my shoulder, who seemed to take a prodigious interest in the proceedings. At this unexpected recognition of his nativity, for Mr. O'Leary never suspected he could be discovered by his accent; he looked across the table, and caught my eye at once. "Oh, I'm safe now! stand by me, Mr. Lorrequer, and we'll clear the room."
As his lordship was wishing me "good night" at the door of the drawing-room, he said, in a half whisper, "We were ignorant yesterday, Mr. Lorrequer, how soon we should have had the pleasure of seeing you here; and you are therefore condemned to a small room off the library, it being the only one we can insure you as being well aired.
She started, not expecting to see me, and immediately said, "Oh! Mr. Lorrequer! then you've missed them." "Missed them!" said I; "how when where?" "Did you not get a note from my lord?" "No; when was it written?" "Oh, dear me, that is so very unfortunate.
She started, not expecting to see me, and immediately said, "Oh! Mr. Lorrequer! then you've missed them." "Missed them!" said I; "how when where?" "Did you not get a note from my lord?" "No; when was it written?" "Oh, dear me, that is so very unfortunate.
It may do very well, thought I, for men totally destitute of better prospects; with neither talent, influence or powerful connexion, to roast their cheeks at Sierra Leone, or suck a sugar-cane at St. Lucia. But that you, Harry Lorrequer, should waste your sweetness upon planters' daughters that have only to be known, to have the world at your feet! The thing is absurd, and not to be thought of!
"A deux heures, Charles," said he to his servant, as the cab turned slowly around. The voice struck me as well known. I waited till he approached the lamp, to catch a glimpse of the face; and what was my surprise to recognise my cousin, Guy Lorrequer of the 10th, whom I had not met with for six years before. My first impulse was not to make myself known to him.
"What the devil does he mean by that?" said I, as the door opened, and a very beautiful young woman came forward, who, after a moment's hesitation, called out "True, indeed, it is Mr. Lorrequer, but he seems to have forgotten me." The eyes, the lips, the tone of the voice, were all familiar. What! can it be possible?
Thomas disappeared, and speedily returned to say, "that my clothes could not be found any where; no one knew any thing of them, and begged me to come down, as Miss Kamworth desired him to say that they were still waiting, and she begged Mr. Lorrequer would not make an elaborate toilette, as they were going on a country excursion." An elaborate toilette!
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