Part 8 (1/2)

As the hour of dinner approached, the guests began to arrive in considerable numbers; and carts, and cars, and waggons came b.u.mping and thumping over the uneven path, though the greater part made their appearance on horseback. I was looking out of a window which commanded the approach to the castle, when I saw coming along the road a large party of naval officers, whose well-known uniform I at once recognised as they drew nearer, and I fancied I knew two of those who led the way.

On they came; I could not be mistaken. There were Captain Oliver and Lieutenant Schank, and several other officers and mids.h.i.+pmen whom I remembered on board the ”Grecian”. I ran to my poor mother with delight to tell her this. She turned pale, recollecting the sorrow she had gone through when last she saw them.

”I cannot face them,” she said; ”but you go, Ben; they will be glad to see you; I should feel out of place in their company, and though my family may be as good as that of many among them, they knew me under such different circ.u.mstances, that I should not like to be sitting at table with them.”

On hearing my mother make these remarks, I too was seized with a bashful fit, but she insisted on my going down to meet them; and at length mustering courage, I ran downstairs. Captain Oliver did not at first know me, but Mr Schank recognised me at once.

”What, Ben, my boy, what brings you here?” he exclaimed.

I soon explained that Mr Kilcullin had married my aunt, and that my mother and I were among the guests.

”Ah! I always thought she was above her position on board,” he observed to Captain Oliver, who, when he found out who I was, shook me warmly by the hand.

”Well, Ben, recollect I shall keep to my promise, and when your mother can spare you, I will take you with me.”

”I hope we shall see her, Ben,” observed Mr Schank, kindly; ”I should like to shake hands with her.” I told him how she felt on the subject.

”Oh!” he said, ”that cannot signify. Tell her we shall not half enjoy the evening unless she comes down.” The officers now arrived in the entrance hall, where my uncle and aunt were standing to welcome their guests. Of course they received them with all due honour.

”We're in a wild part of the country, Captain Oliver and gentlemen, but we will show you, at all events, that we have hospitable intentions, however roughly we may carry them out,” said my uncle.

The great dining-hall was very soon filled, and several adjoining rooms, the guests of inferior quality, of whom there were a good many, making themselves happy in separate parties wherever they could find room to sit down. Among those most active in attending to the wants of the guests, and directing the other serving-men, were Peter Crean and Pat Brady, who was a host in himself, for though second cousin to the bride, he did not at all object to acting the part of a servant. As room was scarce, I was among the picnickers outside. The feast was progressing, when I saw Pat Brady come up to Peter Crean, pulling, for him, a wonderfully long face.

”Faith Peter!” I heard him say, ”I do not at all like his looks.

There's a hang-dog expression about him, and to my mind he's a bailiff in disguise!”

”A what?” exclaimed Peter. ”Has one of them vipers ventured into the neighbourhood of Ballyswiggan? Faith, then, it would have been better for him had he never seen this part of the country, for it will never do to let him go boasting that he set his foot in it without being discovered. Where is he?”

”He is just now outside the gate,” answered Pat; ”but I told two or three of the boys to keep him talking, and on no account to let him come beyond it. I think they have just got an idea that he will not be altogether a welcome guest.”

”I have no doubt who he is, then,” observed Peter Crean. ”I have been expecting him. And, sure, he must not see the master, or he would be spoiling the fun of to-day, and for many a long day afterwards. Here, Pat, you go and talk to him, and I will just make arrangements to receive him.”

Peter Crean was a man of action. A small room was cleared of visitors, a table prepared with viands and various liquors. This done, Peter hurried out to receive the guest. His suspicions were thoroughly confirmed on his inspection of the man.

”Your name, sir,” he said, ”that I may make you welcome to Ballyswiggan Castle. My master is just now particularly engaged with a few guests, but he will be happy to see you when the wine is on the table; and, in the meantime, you will just come in and satisfy your appet.i.te. You have had a long ride since you took anything to eat, barring maybe the whisky, which is not quite so rare on the road.”

”My name is Jonas Quelch, at your service,” answered the stranger, ”and I come from England, though I have been living for some time in Dublin.

It's a fine city, that Dublin.”

”Faith it is, Mr Quelch,” observed Crean; ”and fine people in it, and rogues in it, and the rogues sometimes come out of it, and when they do they are pretty glad to get back again, for we don't like rogues in these parts, Mr Quelch. But I will not keep you sitting on your horse; that will be taken to the stable, and you will just come in, as I said, and partake of the scanty fare this poor part of the country can afford.”

He spoke in a satirical tone. Mr Quelch, holding his riding-whip in his hand, as if for defence, followed him into the house. Peter. Crean was, however, all courtesy and attention. He entreated his visitor to make himself at home, and helped him abundantly to the good things in the dishes placed before him, nor did he omit to ply him with whisky.

Gla.s.s upon gla.s.s he induced him to pour down his throat, till I began to wonder how he could swallow so much without inconvenience. He was evidently a hardened vessel. Crean, however, had not yet done with him.

He now placed before him a flagon of claret.

”Faith, this is the stuff for a gentleman,” he observed. ”You may just empty the bottle, and feel none the worse, but rather much the better than when you began.”

The stranger, nothing loath, followed the advice of the steward. By degrees, however, Mr Quelch's speech became thick, and his conversation more and more incoherent. Crean watched him with a wicked look in his eyes, continuing to press the liquor more and more warmly upon him.

”Come, now, Mr Quelch, just let's begin another bottle. I have always found, where one bottle confuses a man's head, a second one puts him all to rights again. Now, I should not be surprised but that you are beginning to feel a little fuddled.”