This capability had already been exercised in New York, where it had been efficacious, though the effect had not been great. She had been brought up to sing, and great things had been promised of her voice. An American manager had thought much of her performance, though she had hitherto, he said, been young, and had not come to the strength of her throat. But he had himself seen to her education, almost as a child, and had been sure that sooner or later she would do great things in the musical world. Mr. Mahomet M. Moss was the gentleman in question, and he at present was in London. That such a voice as Rachel O'Mahony's should be lost to the world, was to his thinking a profanity, an indecency, an iniquity, a wasting of God's choicest gifts, and an abomination not to be thought of; for Mr. Mahomet M. Moss was in the affairs of his own profession a most energetic gentleman. Rachel rather turned up her nose at Mr. Mahomet M. Moss; but she was very anxious to go to London and to take her chance, and to do something, as she said, laughing, just to keep her father's pot a little on the boil;--but for Mr. Mahomet M. Moss she did not care one straw. Mr. O'Mahony was therefore ready to start on the journey, and had now come to Morony Castle to say farewell to his friend Mr. Jones. "Are you sure about that fellow Moss?" said Mr. Jones. "What do you call sure about him? He's as big a swindler, I guess, as you shall find from here to himself." "And are you going to put Rachel into his hands?" "Well, I think so;--after a sort of fashion. He'll swindle her out of three parts of what she earns;--but she'll get the fourth part. It's always the way with a young girl when she's first brought out." "I don't mean about money. Will you leave her conduct in his hands?" "He'll be a clever chap who'll undertake to look after Rachel's conduct. I guess she'll conduct herself mostly." "You'll be there to be sure," said Mr. Jones. "Yes, I shall be there; and she'll conduct me too. Very likely." "But, Mr. O'Mahony,--as a father!" "I know pretty well what you would be saying. Our young folk grow old quicker a long sight than yours do. Now your girls here are as sweet as primroses out of the wood. But Rachel is like a rose that has been brought up to stand firm on its own bush. I'm not a bit afraid of her. Nor yet is your son. She looks as though you might blow her away with the breath from your mouth. You try her, and you'll find that she'll want a deal of blowing." "Does not a young girl lose something of the aroma of her youth by seeing too much of the world too soon?" "How old do you expect her to be when she's to die?" "Rachel! How can I tell? She is only as yet entering upon life, and her health seems to be quite confirmed." "The best confirmed I ever knew in my life. She never has a day's illness. Taking all the chances one way and another, shall we say sixty?" "More than that, I should think," said Mr. Jones.