Part 37 (1/2)
”Father, dear, dear father!” said Charley, as he loosened his grasp, and, still holding him by both hands, looked earnestly into his face with swimming eyes.
Old Mr. Kennedy seemed to have lost his powers of speech. He gazed at his son for a few seconds in silence--then suddenly threw his arms around him and engaged in a species of wrestle which he intended for an embrace.
”O Charley, my boy! you've come at last--G.o.d bless you! Let's look at you. Quite changed: six feet; no, not quite changed--the old nose; black as an Indian. O Charley, my dear boy! I've been waiting for you for months; why did you keep me so long, eh? Hang it, where's my handkerchief?” At this last exclamation Mr. Kennedy's feelings quite overcame him; his full heart overflowed at his eyes, so that when he tried to look at his son, Charley appeared partly magnified and partly broken up into fragments. Fumbling in his pocket for the missing handkerchief, which he did not find, he suddenly seized his fur cap, in a burst of exasperation, and wiped his eyes with that. Immediately after, forgetting that it was a cap he thrust it into his pocket.
”Come, dear father,” cried Charley, drawing the old man's arm through his, ”let us go home. Is Kate there?”
”Ay, ay,” cried Mr. Kennedy, waving his hand as he was dragged away, and bestowing, quite unwittingly, a back-handed slap on the cheek to Harry Somerville--which nearly felled that youth to the ground. ”Ay, ay! Kate, to be sure, darling. Yes, quite right, Charley; a pipe--that's it, my boy, let's have a pipe!” And thus, uttering coherent and broken sentences, he disappeared through the doorway with his long-lost and now recovered son.
Meanwhile Harry and Jacques continued to pace quietly before the house, waiting patiently until the first ebullition of feeling, at the meeting of Charley with his father and sister, should be over. In a few minutes Charley ran out.
”Hollo, Harry! come in, my boy; forgive my forgetfulness, but--”
”My dear fellow,” interrupted Harry, ”what nonsense you are talking! Of course you forgot me, and everybody and everything on earth, just now; but have you seen Kate? is--”
”Yes, yes,” cried Charley, as he pushed his friend before him, and dragged Jacques after him into the parlour.--”Here's Harry, father, and Jacques.--You've heard of Jacques, Kate?”
”Harry, my, dear boy;” cried Mr. Kennedy, seizing his young friend by the hand; ”how are you, lad? Better, I hope.”
At that moment Mr. Kennedy's eye fell on Jacques, who stood in the doorway, cap in hand, with the usual quiet smile lighting up his countenance.
”What! Jacques--Jacques Caradoc!” he cried, in astonishment.
”The same, sir; you an' I have know'd each other afore now in the way o' trade,” answered the hunter, as he grasped his old bourgeois by the hand and wrung it warmly. Mr. Kennedy, senior, was so overwhelmed by the combination of exciting influences to which he was now subjected, that he plunged his hand into his pocket for the handkerchief again, and pulled out the fur hat instead, which he flung angrily at the cat; then using the sleeve of his coat as a subst.i.tute, he proceeded to put a series of abrupt questions to Jacques and Charley simultaneously.
In the meantime Harry went up to Kate and _stared_ at her. We do not mean to say that he was intentionally rude to her. No! He went towards her intending to shake hands, and renew acquaintance with his old companion; but the moment he caught sight of her he was struck not only dumb, but motionless. The odd part of it was that Kate, too, was affected in precisely the same way, and both of them exclaimed mentally, ”Can it be possible?” Their lips, however, gave no utterance to the question. At length Kate recollected herself, and blus.h.i.+ng deeply, held out her hand, as she said,--
”Forgive me, Har--Mr. Somerville; I was so surprised at your altered appearance, I could scarcely believe that my old friend stood before me.”
Harry's cheeks crimsoned as he seized her hand and said: ”Indeed, Ka--a--Miss--that is, in fact, I've been very ill, and doubtless have changed somewhat; but the very same thought struck me in regard to yourself, you are so--so--”
Fortunately for Harry, who was gradually becoming more and more confused, to the amus.e.m.e.nt of Charley, who had closely observed the meeting of his friend and sister, Mr. Kennedy came up.
”Eh! what's that? What did you say _struck_ you, Harry, my lad?”
”_You_ did, father, on his arrival,” replied Charley, with a broad grin, ”and a very neat back-hander it was.”
”Nonsense, Charley,” interrupted Harry, with a laugh.--”I was just saying, sir, that Miss Kennedy is so changed that I could hardly believe it to be herself.”
”And I had just paid Mr. Somerville the same compliment, papa,” cried Kate, laughing and blus.h.i.+ng simultaneously.
Mr. Kennedy thrust his hands into his pockets, frowned portentously as he looked from one to the other, and said slowly, ”_Miss_ Kennedy, _Mr._ Somerville!” then turning to his son, remarked, ”That's something new, Charley, lad; that girl is _Miss_ Kennedy, and that youth there is _Mr._ Somerville!”
Charley laughed loudly at this sally, especially when the old gentleman followed it up with a series of contortions of the left cheek, meant for violent winking.
”Right, father, right; it won't do here. We don't know anybody but Kate and Harry in this house.”
Harry laughed in his own genuine style at this.
”Well, Kate be it, with all my heart,” said he; ”but, really, at first she seemed so unlike the Kate of former days that I could not bring myself to call her so.”