"And if I was, it would n't be the first time. But how are you yourself, where is the pain?"

"You must speak louder; there 's a kind of damper on the voice in this room."

"Where 's the pain?" screamed Dalton.

"There there no need to roar," whispered the other. "The pain is here over the stomach, round the ribs, the back everywhere."

"Ah, I know it well," said Dalton, with a wry contortion of the face.

"It's the devil entirely when it gets under the short ribs! It begins like a rat nibbling you, as it might be, biting away little bits, with now and then a big slice that makes you sing out; and then the teeth begin to get hot, and he bites quicker, and tears you besides, sure I know it, this many a year."

To this description, of which Fogla.s.s heard nothing, he bowed blandly, and made a sign to Dalton to be seated near him.

"You'd like a little wine-and-water, I'm sure," said he, with the air of a man who rarely figured as a host, and liked it more rarely still.

"Spirits-and-water--boiling water with sugar and a squeeze of lemon, is what I 'll take; and see now, you 'd not be worse of the same yourself.

I 've an elegant receipt for the gout, but whether it 's sulphur or saltpetre 's in it, I don't well remember; but I know you mix it with treacle, ash-bark, and earthworms, the yolk of four eggs, and a little rosemary. But as you might n't like the taste of it at first, we 'll just begin with a jug of punch."

The waiter had by this time made his appearance, and the order being communicated by a most expressive pantomime of drinking, and a few solitary words of German Dalton possessed, the room a.s.sumed a look of sociality, to which Dalton's presence very mainly contributed.

In the confidence such a moment of secrecy suggested, Fogla.s.s produced an ear-trumpet, a mark of the most unbounded good faith on his part, and which, had Dalton known him better, he would have construed into a proof of implicit reliance on his honor.

"I've been many years at Constantinople," said he, adjusting the instrument, "and the confounded muezzin has made me a little deaf. It's an everlasting calling to prayers, day and night, there."

"How they ever expect to get to heaven by tormentin', and teasin', is more than I know," said Dalton.

"They 're Mahomedans!" said Fogla.s.s, with the air of a man uttering a profound sentiment.

"Ay, to be sure," observed Dalton; "it's not like Christians. Now, is it true, they tell me they never eat salt meat!"

"Never!"

"Think of that! Not a bit of corned beef, nor as much as a leg of pork--"

"Would n't hear of it," interrupted Fogla.s.s. "Wine, too, is forbidden."

"And punch?"

"Of course, punch also. A pipe, a cup of coffee, the bath, and a little opium are the luxuries of Turkish existence."

"To the devil I fling them all four," cried Dalton, impatiently. "How a man is to be social beside a coffeepot, or up to his neck in hot water, beats me entirely. Faix! I don't envy the Turks!" And he sipped his gla.s.s as he spoke, like one who had fallen upon a happier destiny.

"If you 'll mix me a very small gla.s.s of that punch, I'd like to propose a toast," said Fogla.s.s.

"There, now, that's spoke like a sensible man; pleasant company and social enjoyment are the greatest enemies to the gout. Make your mind easy, and keep your heart light, and the devil a fear but your knees will get limber, and the swellin' will leave your ankles; but weak punch and tiresome people would undermine the best const.i.tution in the world.

Taste that."

To judge from Mr. Fogla.s.s's face, Dalton had at least provided one element of health for his companion.

"It is very strong very strong, indeed!" said he, puckering up his eyes.

"It's the fault of the water hereabouts," said Dalton. "It doesn't mix right with the spirits; so that one half the first, generally of your liquor tastes stiff, but the bottom is mild as milk."

[Ill.u.s.tration: 384]

The explanation gave such encouragement to Fogla.s.s, that he drank away freely, and it was only when he had finished that he remembered his intention of giving a toast.

"Now, Mr. Dalton," said he, as he sat up with a replenished gla.s.s in his hand, "I am going to redeem my pledge, and about to give you the health of the most beautiful girl in Italy, one whose attractions are the theme of every tongue, and whose ambitions may realize any height, or attain any eminence, that she pleases."

"Here 's to you, Kate Dalton," broke in the father, "my own sweet child; and if you only come back to me as you went away, the sorrow better I ask, or grander."

"She will be a d.u.c.h.ess; she may be a princess if she likes."

"Who knows who knows?" said Dalton, as he hung down his head, and hammered away with his spoon at the sugar in his gla.s.s.

"Every one knows, every one sees it, Mr. Dalton," said Fogla.s.s, authoritatively. "From the Archduke Ernest of Austria to the very pages of the court, all are her worshippers and admirers. She'll come back to you with a proud name and a high coronet, Mr. Dalton."

"The devil a better than Dalton ever 'twill be! that I can tell you.

'T is n't yesterday we took it, the same name; there 's stones in the churchyard of Ballyhack can show who we are; and if she married the--the G.o.d forgive me, I was going to say the Pope, but I meant the Grand Turk she would n't be better than she is now, as Kate Dalton."

"Not better, certainly, but in a more exalted rank, in a position of more recognized distinction," said Fogla.s.s, blandly.

"No; nor that neither," cried Dalton, angrily. "The Daltons goes back to the ancient times of all. There 's one of our name in the Bible. I 'm not sure where, but I believe it 's in the Book of Kings, or maybe the Psalms; but wherever it is, he was a real gentleman, living on his own estate, with his livery-servants, and his horses, and everything in good style about him; high on the grand jury, maybe the sheriff of the county."

Fogla.s.s, who had followed this description but imperfectly, could only bow in a deep acknowledgment of what he did not understand.

"The man that marries Kate Dalton isn't doing a piece of condescension, anyhow! that I can tell him. The dirty acres may slip away from us, but our good blood won't."

"No man has a higher veneration for blood, sir," said Fogla.s.s, proudly; "few men have better reason for the feeling."

"Is Fogles an old stock?" asked Dalton, eagerly.

"Fogla.s.s, like Fitzroy, sir, may mean more than loyalty would dare to avow. My father, Mr. Dalton But this is a very sad theme with me, let us change it; let us drink to a better feeling in our native land, when that abominable statute may be erased from our code, when that offspring of suspicion and distrust shall no longer be the offence and opprobrium of Englishmen. Here 's to its speedy and everlasting repeal!"

The word was talismanic to Dalton, connected, as it was, in his mind with but one subject. He arose at once, and holding up his goblet in the air, cried out,

"Hip! hip! hurrah! three cheers and success to it! Repeal forever!"

Fogla.s.s echoed the sentiment with equal enthusiasm, and draining his gla.s.s to the bottom, exclaimed,

"Thank you, Dalton! thank you; the heartiness of that cheer tells me we are friends; and although you know not what my feelings are indeed none can you can execrate with honest indignation those hateful unions!"

"Bad luck to it!" exclaimed Dalton, with energy. "We never had grace nor luck since we saw it!"

"Those petty German sovereigns, with their territories the size of Hyde Park!" said Fogla.s.s, with intense contempt.

"Just so. The Hessians!" chimed in Dalton, who had a faint consciousness that the other was alluding to the troops of the Electorate, once quartered in Ireland.

"Let us change the topic, Dalton," said Fogla.s.s, pathetically, as he wiped his brow like a man dispelling a dark train of thought. "Here's to that charming young lady I saw last evening, a worthy sister of the beautiful Miss Dalton."