Part 96 (1/2)

”Pace!” said Desborough, in his affected Irish accent; ”be on this house, and all in it. The top of the morning to ye all.”

”Now,” said Alice, ”we are going to have some fun; Captain Desborough has got his brogue on.”

”Ye'll have some fun directly, Miss Brentwood,” he said. ”But there's some serious, sober earnest to come first. My cousin, Slievedonad, is dead.”

”Lord Slievedonad?”

”The same. That small Viscount is at this moment in pur----. G.o.d forgive me, and him too.”

”Poor fellow!”

”That's just half. My uncle Lord Covetown was taken with a fit when he heard of it, and is gone after him, and the Lord forgive him too. He turned me, his own brother's son, out into the world with half an education, to sink or swim; and never a kind word did he or his son ever give me in their lives. It must have broken the old man's heart to think how the estate would go. But as I said before, G.o.d forgive him.”

”You must feel his loss, Captain Desborough,” said Alice. ”I am very sorry for you.”

”Ahem! my dear young lady, you don't seem to know how this ends.”

”Why, no,” said Alice, looking up wonderingly; ”I do not.”

”Why, it ends in this,” said Desborough; ”that I myself am Earl of Covetown, Viscount Slievedonad, and Baron Avoca, with twenty thousand a year, me darlin, the laste penny; see to there now.”

”Brogue again,” said Alice. ”Are you joking?”

”True enough,” said Desborough. ”I had a letter from my grandmother, the Dowager (she that lost the dog), only this very day. And there's a thousand pounds paid into the Bank of New South Wales to my account.

Pretty good proof that last, eh?”

”My dear Lord,” said Alice, ”I congratulate you most heartily. All the world are turning out to be n.o.blemen. I should not be surprised to find that I am a d.u.c.h.ess myself.”

”It rests with you, Miss Brentwood,” said Desborough, with a wicked glance at Sam, ”to be a countess. I now formally make you an offer of me hand and heart. Oh! tell me, Miss Brentwood, will ye be Mrs. Mars--I beg pardon, Countess of Covetown?”

”No, I thank you, my lord,” said Alice, laughing and blus.h.i.+ng. ”I am afraid I must decline.”

”I was afraid ye would,” said Lord Covetown. ”I had heard that a great six-foot villain had been trifling with your affections, so I came prepared for a refusal. Came prepared with this, Miss Brentwood, which I pray you to accept; shall I be too bold if I say, as a wedding present, from one of your most sincere admirers.”

He produced a jewel case, and took from it a bracelet, at the sight of which Alice gave an honest womanly cry of delight. And well she might, for the bauble cost 150L. It was a bracelet of gold, representing a snake. Half-way up the reptile's back began a row of sapphires, getting larger towards the neck, each of which was surrounded by small emeralds. The back of the head contained a n.o.ble brilliant, and the eyes were two rubies. Altogether, a thorough specimen of Irish extravagance and good taste.

”Can you clasp it on for her, Sam?” said Lord Covetown.

”Oh, my Lord, I ought not to accept such a princely present!” said Alice.

”Look here, Miss Brentwood,” said Covetown, laying his hand on Sam's shoulder. ”I find that the n.o.blest and best fellow I know is going to marry the handsomest woman, saving your presence, that I ever saw. I myself have just come into an earldom, and twenty thousand a-year; and if, under these circ.u.mstances, I mayn't make that woman a handsome present, why then the deuce is in it, you know. Sam, my boy, your hand.

Jim, your hand, my lad. May you be as good a soldier as your father.”

”Ah!” said Jim. ”So you're an earl are you? What does it feel like, eh?

Do you feel the blue blood of a hundred sires coursing in your veins?

Do you feel the hereditary cla.s.s prejudices of the Norman aristocracy cutting you off from the sympathies of the inferior cla.s.ses, and raising you above the hopes and fears of the ma.s.ses? How very comical it must be! So you are going to sit among the big-wigs in the House of Lords. I hope you won't forget yourself, and cry 'Faug a Ballagh,' when one of the bishops rises to speak. And whatever you do, don't sing 'Gama crem'ah cruiskeen' in the lobby.”