CHAPTER III.

LIFE AT CALLONBY--LOVE-MAKING--MISS O'DOWD'S ADVENTURE.

My first evening at Callonby passed off as nearly all first evenings do
every where. His lordship was most agreeable, talked much of my uncle,
Sir Guy, whose fag he had been at Eton half a century before, promised me
some capital shooting in his preserves, discussed the state of politics;
and, as the second decanter of port "waned apace," grew wondrous
confidential, and told me of his intention to start his son for the
county at the next general election, such being the object which had
now conferred the honour of his presence on his Irish estates.

Her ladyship was most condescendingly civil, vouchsafed much tender
commiseration for my "exile," as she termed my quarters in Kilrush;
wondered how I could possibly exist in a marching regiment, (who had
never been in the cavalry in my life!) Spoke quite feelingly on my
kindness in joining their stupid family party, for they were living, to
use her own phrase, "like hermits;" and wound up all by a playful
assurance that as she perceived, from all my answers, that I was bent on
preserving a strict incognito, she would tell no tales about me on her
return to "Town." Now, it may readily be believed, that all this, and
many more of her ladyship's allusions, were a "Chaldee manuscript" to me;
that she knew certain facts of my family and relations, was certain; but
that she had interwoven in the humble web of my history, a very pretty
embroidery of fiction was equally so; and while she thus ran on, with
innumerable allusions to Lady Marys and Lord Johns, who she pretended to
suppose were dying to hear from me, I could not help muttering to myself