Adiante! She won't hear of "princess." She hates that marriage. She
was all for my brother Philip. She calls him "Our handsome lieutenant."
She'll keep the poor fellow a subaltern all his life.'

'You went to Jenny's inn?'

'The Earlsfont Arms, I went to. And Mrs. Jenny at the door, watching the
rain. Destiny directed me. She caught the likeness to Philip on a lift
of her eye, and very soon we sat conversing like old friends. We were
soon playing at old cronies over past times. I saw the way to bring her
out, so I set to work, and she was up in defence of her darling, ready to
tell me anything to get me to think well of her. And that was the main
reason, she said, why Miss Adiante broke with him and went abroad her
dear child wouldn't have Mr. Philip abused for fortune-hunting. As for
the religion, they could each have practised their own: her father would
have consented to the fact, when it came on him in that undeniable shape
of two made one. She says, Miss Adiante has a mighty soul; she has brave
ideas. Miss Deenly, she calls her. Ay, and so has Philip: though the
worst is, they're likely to drive him out of the army into politics and
Parliament; and an Irishman there is a barrow trolling a load of
grievances. Ah, but she would have kept him straight. Not a soldier
alive knows the use of cavalry better than my brother. He wanted just
that English wife to steady him and pour drops of universal fire into
him; to keep him face to face with the world, I mean; letting him be true
to his country in a fair degree, but not an old rainpipe and spout. She
would have held him to his profession. And, Oh dear! She's a friend
worth having, lost to Ireland. I see what she could have done there.
Something bigger than an island, too, has to be served in our days: that
is, if we don't forget our duty at home. Poor Paddy, and his pig, and
his bit of earth! If you knew what we feel for him! I'm a landlord, but