“Yer Swateheart’s name is Jennie                 .” He called a name which the doctor said was correct. “Or at laaste you use ter call her Jennie. Well, if ye will hould yer tongue an’ hev pashence, I will tell ye how she is and all about her, ’cepting whar she is at present. I must kape that to mesel’, as shure as you’re born.”

“What is your name, and where did you come from?” inquired the doctor.

“Me name? Yer may call me Pat. But where I live and what’s me other name, I ain’t agoin’ to tell. But say, Docther, I asked ye—no, I tould ye—if ye would hould yer tongue, I would make yer happy wid the thought of once more clasping yer only love to yer manly breast. Are yees going to be quiet an’ comply with me terms?”

“Yes, yes, I will do anything, if you will only tell me of her,” pleaded the doctor.

“Thank ye fur yer kindness, sir. I will proceed at wonst. Afther ye went away an’ wasn’t hearn ov fur sumtime, an’ yer gal thought you were ded, she married another man an’—”

“Good gracious! Did she marry another man?” cried the doctor in dismay. {. . .}

“Be ’asy I tell ye as {. . .} ’asy as ye can {. . .}

 

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“[. . .]how happy I would be!” said the doctor passionately. “But go on, go on,” continued he. “I am impatient to hear from her—more of her. What did her husband do that he was sentenced to the State’s Prison for life?”

“He was implicated in a murther affair, sir, an’ shure I ’spect he was the murtherer, but he got off,” replied the Irishman.

“Is her husband dead? Is She free again?”

“No sir, an’ shure he ’scaped an’ they niver found him anymore. But he’ll be found as shure as beans is beans!” answered the Irishman.

“When can I see her? Oh, take me to her at once, for I am dying a slow death from the effects of this suspense I have been in for many long and weary years,” groaned the doctor, and his face was ashy pale—he was trembling in every muscle.

“Don’t trouble yersel’. She is still a lady—though in reduced circumstances—but she is well at present. You see that afther she got married, her mother died—well, she had been married a year when her mother died, and about a month afther her mother died—her husband was arrested.”

“Oh, the trouble my poor darling has had—Oh, the degradation she has been subjected to. When can I see her?” And the doctor looked appealingly at Pat. Pat said in his native brogue:

“Ye can see her in ’bout four months at the furthest. I will watch over her, an’ by the help o’ the Holy Catholic Church an’ the Blessed Vargin Mary, I will see that she is well cared for.”

“Do so, my good fellow, and I will repay you a thousand times for your trouble—but you have not answered my question. When shall I see her?” asked the doctor again, forgetting in his anxiety that he had asked the same question before.

“I tould ye, ye Should see her in about four months, an’ I will not go back on me word,” said the Irishman imperatively.

“Was her husband kind to her?”

“No, the spalpeen^[1] was mean—very mean—to the beautiful little guardian angel.”

“Oh, why did I leave her? Why didn’t I take my chances for fortune just so as I made sure of her? But let me ever get her in my sight again, and nothing but death shall separate us!” said the doctor, as if talking to himself.

“Your leavin’ ov her didn’t hurt, but that spalpeen comin’ in an’ marryin’ of her is what made yer cakes all dough—never yer mind, I will make it all right with her for ye.”

“What was his name?” inquired the doctor. The Irishman whispered a name in his ear.

“Him—him, Oh my God—he was the last one I thought she would have married,” groaned Dr. Maltby bitterly. ÷

“Don’t fret, dear sur. I am a rough talker, but I—thank God—have a kind heart, an’ tis oneself that will give ye all the consolation I can,” said the Irishman feelingly.

“Well, tell me truly. Did she love him?”

“No, bless yer sowl, no. She hadn’t on bit o’ love fur him,” answered Pat earnestly.

“Why, oh why then did she marry him—my love, my love—my only love, how you have suffered. No one can tell but your own dear self!” wailed Dr. Maltby as large tears—like drops of blood—flowed from his eyes.

“Och, me sowl, Docther, but yer does certainly make me fale bad. Please don’t take on so!”

“Tell me more—tell me more of her,” said the doctor impatiently.

“The reason she married him was because her mother told her, yes begged her, to marry him, as she was very sick then, and she wanted to see her daughter married before she was laid to slape beneath the cold and silent clay.”

“Oh, if I could have been there, I would have took her and—and—and—” He could say no more. So he sat there and cried like a little child.

“Well, sur, I believe I will thravel now, as I have done what I supposed to be my duty,” said the Son of Erin,^[2] as he rose to go.

“Don’t go yet. I want to pay you for your valuable information,” said the doctor, summoning all his power of speech to say the words, so great was his emotion.

“I want no pay now—not until I bring you face to face with her,” responded Pat.

“Does she look old? Is her hair very gray?”

“No sur, she don’t look very old, neither is her hair very gray. You shall see her afore long.”

“Oh, I hope it won’t be long,” murmured the doctor, as if impatient for the time to come.

“I see someone comin’, Docther. Come an’ walk up to the depot with me, as I want to go away when the three o’clock train goes out.”

The doctor was glad to accept the proposal, for he thought he would get to see the ticket and find out where Pat was going.

“I will walk up there with you with great pleasure,” said the doctor as he prepared to go.

“Ye shall hear from me again soon, Docther, fur I have taken a kind o’ likin’ to you, you are so kind-hearted,” said Pat earnestly.

“I trust I may, Dear friend—for you must be a friend, or you wouldn’t have took the trouble of coming so far to tell me of my lost love. How far did you have to come?” asked the doctor, in conclusion to his remark. He thought he would catch Pat unawares. But he did not.

“Yes sur, I am your friend. But where I came from ye can’t find out, fur as shure as yer are born that’s my sacret,” said the wily Irishman.

“Well, keep it as your secret then—only let me know how my love is pretty soon,” replied the doctor resignedly.

“Now yer are a talkin’ like a sinsible man—that ye are, to be shure,” said Pat approvingly. “I’ll be faithful,” continued he. “I’ll be thrue to me word, fur certain.”

“Do so, and I will certainly pay you well for your fidelity to her,” responded the doctor as they hurried along in the direction of the depot. “I hope someone will trap him—he robbed me of my love,” continued the doctor.

“Ye mustn’t bear malice, me frind. No one iver got along by bearing malice,” commented Pat in an earnest and persuasive mood.

“I will try not to bear him malice, but all convicts ought to be made [to] serve their time out,” said the doctor gravely.

“Well, the jury rendered verdict of ‘guilty as indicted,’ and sentenced him to the State Prison for the term of his nat’ral life. I am thinking that they couldn’t have sent him for a longer term,” said the Son of Erin sarcastically.

“No, I reckon not,” said Dr. Maltby. They were now at the depot, and they went into the reception-room there, and stayed for some time talking about different things.

“I am in luck—better luck than I anticipated. I didn’t think he’d believe me,” said the son of the Emerald Isle to himself.

“Well, I’ll get in the car now. Good-bye, my frind. I’ll see you agin soon,” said the Irishman aloud to his companion—the doctor.

“I’ll go in and sit with you awhile,” responded the doctor, as he shook the proffered hand with a heavy grip. “Where is your ticket?” asked the doctor.

“Oh, I have it with me. I got it when I first came in,” replied Pat. In vain did the doctor try to get a look at the ticket. He could not, for the Irishman took care to keep him from doing so.

They went into the car and took a seat—they conversed on different subjects until the train started—the doctor then bid his new-found friend farewell and tried for the last time to get a look at that ticket, but “Irishy” was too sharp for him. He watched the train out of sight, then he turned and walked slowly toward his office, muttering as he went along, “I know them eyes. Oh, how I wish I could have found out where he lives! I would follow him to the end of the Earth to find her.”