At last, at Christmas, the agent wrote he could raise no more money,
anyhow, and desired to resign the agency. My son, Jason, who had
corresponded privately with Sir Kit, was requested to take over the
accounts forthwith. His honour also condescended to tell us he was going
to be married in a fortnight to the grandest heiress in England, and had
immediate occasion for £200 for travelling expenses home to Castle
Rackrent, where he intended to be early next month. We soon saw his
marriage in the paper, and news came of him and his bride being in
Dublin on their way home. We had bonfires all over the country,
expecting them all day, and were just thinking of giving them up for the
night, when the carriage came thundering up. I got the first sight of
the bride, and greatly shocked I was, for she was little better than a
blackamoor. "You're kindly welcome, my lady," I says; but neither spoke
a word, nor did he so much as hand her up the steps.

I concluded she could not speak English, and was from foreign parts, so
I left her to herself, and went down to the servants' hall to learn
something about her. Sir Kit's own man told us, at last, that she might
well be a great fortune, for she was a Jewess, by all accounts. I had
never seen any of that tribe before, and could only gather that she
could not abide pork nor sausages, and went neither to church nor mass.
"Mercy upon his honour's poor soul," thought I. But when, after this,
strange gentleman's servants came and began to talk about the bride, I
took care to put the best foot foremost, and passed her for a nabob.

I saw plain enough, next morning, how things were between Sir Kit and
his lady, though they went arm-in-arm to look at the building.

"Old Thady, how do you do?" says my master, just as he used to do, but I