"But you give me the sack. Is that it?"
"What do you propose, Mr. Cashel Byron? Is it to visit my house in
the intervals of battering and maiming butchers and laborers?"
"No, it's not," retorted Cashel. "You're very aggravating. I won't
stay much longer in the ring now, because my luck is too good to
last. I shall have to retire soon, luck or no luck, because no one
can match me. Even now there's nobody except Bill Paradise that
pretends to be able for me; and I'll settle him in September if he
really means business. After that, I'll retire. I expect to be worth
ten thousand pounds then. Ten thousand pounds, I'm told, is the same
as five hundred a year. Well, I suppose, judging from the style you
keep here, that you're worth as much more, besides your place in the
country; so, if you will marry me, we shall have a thousand a year
between us. I don't know much of money matters; but at any rate we
can live like fighting-cocks on that much. That's a straight and
business-like proposal, isn't it?"
"And if I refuse?" said Lydia, with some sternness.
"Then you may have the ten thousand pounds to do what you like
with," said Cashel, despairingly. "It won't matter what becomes of
me. I won't go to the devil for you or any woman if I can help it;
and I--but where's the good of saying IF you refuse. I know I don't
express myself properly; I'm a bad hand at sentimentality; but if I
had as much gab as a poet, I couldn't be any fonder of you, or think
more highly of you."
"But you are mistaken as to the amount of my income."
"That doesn't matter a bit. If you have more, why, the more the
merrier. If you have less, or if you have to give up all your
property when you're married, I will soon make another ten thousand
to supply the loss. Only give me one good word, and, by George, I'll
fight the seven champions of Christendom, one down and t'other come
on, for five thousand a side each. Hang the money!"
"I am richer than you suppose," said Lydia, unmoved. "I cannot tell
you exactly how much I possess; but my income is about forty
thousand pounds."
"Forty thousand pounds!" ejaculated Cashel.
"Holy Moses! I didn't think the queen had so much as that."
He paused a moment, and became very red. Then, in a voice broken by
mortification, he said, "I see I have been making a fool of myself,"
and took his hat and turned to go.