“Your honour, my lord, is a very happy jantleman, and a very good jantleman, there’s no doubt, and there’s few but would be proud to be like you in any thing at all.” “Thank you for that compliment. But now, in plain English, as to yourself, would you like to be in my place--to change places with me?” “In your honour’s place--I! I would _not_, my lord; and that’s the truth, now,” said he, decidedly. “I would not: no offence--your honour bid me to speak the truth; for I’ve all I want in the world, a good mother, and a good wife, and good _childer_, and a reasonable good little cabin, and my little _pratees_, and the grazing of the cow, and work enough always, and not called on to slave, and I get my health, thank God for all; and what more could I have if I should be made a lord to-morrow? Sure, my good woman would never make a lady; and what should I do with her? I’d be grieved to see her the laughing-stock of high and low, besides being the same myself, and my boy after me. That would never answer for me; so I am not like them that would overturn all to get uppermost; I never had any hand, art, or part, in a thing of the kind; I always thought and knew I was best as I am; not but what, if I was to change with any, it is with you, my lord, I would be proud to change; because if I was to be a jantleman at all, I’d wish to be of a _ra-al_ good _ould_ family born.” “You are then what you wish to be?” said I. “Och!” said he, laughing and scratching his head, “your honour’s jesting me about them kings of Ireland, that they say the O’Donoghoes was once: but that’s what I never think _on_, that’s all idle talk for the like of me, for sure that’s a long time ago, and what use going back to it? One might as well be going back to Adam, that was the father of all, but which makes no differ now.” “But you do not understand me,” interrupted I; “I am not going back to the kings of Ireland: I mean to tell you, that you were born a gentleman--nay, I am perfectly serious; listen to me.” “I do, plase your honour, though it is mocking me, I know you are; I would be sorry not to take a joke as well as another.” “This is no joke; I repeat that I am serious. You are not only a gentleman, but a nobleman: to you this castle and this great estate belongs, and to you they shall be surrendered.” He stood astonished; and, his eyes opening wide, showed a great circle of white in his black face. “Eh!” cried he, drawing that long breath, which astonishment had suppressed. “But how can this be?” “Your mother can explain better than I can: your mother, did I say? she is not your mother; Lady Glenthorn was your mother.” “I can’t understand it at all--I can’t understand it at all. I’ll lave it all to your honour,” said he, making a motion with his hands, as if to throw from him the trouble of comprehending it. “Did you never hear of such a thing as a child’s being changed at nurse?”