The Knight Of Gwynne Volume I Part 6

Whatever Forester's own impression of the stranger, he soon felt how very difficult a task portrait-painting was, and how very unlike was his representation of the individual in question. The sure way to fail in any untried career is to suspect a failure; this he soon discovered, and cut short a most imperfect description by abruptly saying, "If you guess him now, gentlemen, I acknowledge the merit is far more in _your_ perspicuity than in _my_ powers of description."

"Only a few questions before you leave the table, sir," said MacDonough, addressing him with the mock sternness of a cross-examining barrister.

"You said the unknown was gifted with a most courteous and prepossessing manner: pray what is the exact meaning of your phrase? for we uncouth inhabitants of a remote region have very imperfect notions on such subjects. My friend Dan Mahon here would call any man agreeable who could drink fourteen tumblers, and not forget the whiskey in mixing the fifteenth; Tom Callaghan, on the other hand, would test his breeding by what he knew of a wether or a 'short-horn;' Giles, my neighbor here, would ask, Did he lend you any money? and Mr. Hickman O'Reilly would whisper a hope that he came of an old family."

The leer by which these words were accompanied gave them an impertinence even greater than their simple signification; but however coa.r.s.e the sarcasm, it suited well the excited tone of the party, who laughed loud and vociferously as he uttered it.

Strange as he was to the party, Forester saw that the allusion had a personal application, and was very far from relishing a pleasantry whose whole merit was its coa.r.s.eness; he therefore answered in a tone of rather haughty import, "The person I met, sir, was a gentleman; and the word, so far as I know, has an easy signification, at least to all who have had opportunities to learn it."

"I have no doubt of that, Captain Forester," replied MacDonough; "but if we divided the house on it here, some of us might differ about the definition. Your neighbor there, Mr. Beecham O'Reilly, thinks his own countrymen very far down in the scale."

"A low fellow,--n.o.body pays attention to him," muttered young O'Reilly in Forester's ear, as, with a cheek pale as death, he affected to seem totally indifferent to the continued insolence of his tormentor.

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Beecham O'Reilly," interposed MacDonough, with a significant smile, "but your observation was, I think, meant to apply to me."

The young man made no answer, but proceeded to fill his gla.s.s with claret, while his hand trembled so much that he spilled the wine about the table. Forester stared at him, expecting each instant to hear his reply to this appeal; but not a word escaped him, nor did he even look towards the quarter from which the taunt proceeded.

"Didn't I tell you so, sir?" exclaimed MacDonough, with a triumphant laugh. "There are various descriptions of gentlemen: some are contented with qualities of home growth, and satisfied to act, think, and deport themselves like their neighbors; others travel for this improvement, and bring back habits and customs that seem strange in their own country; now, I don't doubt but in England that young gentleman would be thought all that was spirited and honorable."

"I have nothing to say to that, sir!" replied Forester, sternly; "but if you would like to hear the opinion my fellow-countrymen would have of yourself, I could perhaps favor you."

"Stop, stop! where are you hurrying to? No more of this nonsense," cried the host, who had suddenly caught the last few words, while conversing with a person on his left.

"I beg your pardon most humbly, sir," said MacDonough, whose faced was flushed with pa.s.sion, and whose lip trembled, notwithstanding all his efforts to seem calm and collected, "but the gentleman was about to communicate a trait of English society. I know you misunderstood him."

"Perhaps so," said the host; "what was it, Captain Forester? I believe I did not hear you quite accurately."

"A very simple fact, sir," said Forester, coolly, "and one that can scarcely astonish Mr. MacDonough to hear."

"And which is--?" said MacDonough, affecting a bland smile.

"Perhaps you 'd ask for a definition, if I employ a single word."

"Not this time," said MacDonough, still smiling in the same way.

"You are right, sir, it would be affectation to do so; for though you may feel very natural doubts about what const.i.tutes a gentleman, you ought to be pretty sure what makes a blackguard."

The words seemed to fall like a sh.e.l.l in the company; one burst of tumultuous uproar broke forth, voices in every tone and accent of eagerness and excitement, when suddenly the host cried out, "Lock the doors; no man leaves the room till this matter is settled; there shall be no quarrelling beneath this roof so long as Bagenal Daly sits here for his friend."

The caution came too late--MacDonough was gone.

CHAPTER V. AN AFTER-DINNER STORY

The unhappy event which so suddenly interrupted the conviviality of the party scarcely made a more than momentary impression. Altercations which ended most seriously were neither rare nor remarkable at the dinner-tables of the country gentlemen, and if the present instance caused an unusual interest, it was only because one of the parties was an Englishman.

As for Forester himself, his first burst of anger over, he forgot all in his astonishment that the host was not "the Knight" himself, but only his representative and friend, Bagenal Daly.

"Come, Captain Forester," said he, "I owe you an _amende_ for the mystification I have practised upon you. You shall have it. Your travelling acquaintance at Kilbeggan was the 'Knight of Gwynne;' and the few lines he sent through your hands contained an earnest desire that your stay here might be sufficiently prolonged to admit of his meeting you at his return."

"I shall be extremely sorry," said Forester, in a low voice, "if anything that has occurred to-night shall deprive me of that pleasure."

"No, no--nothing of the kind," said Daly, with a significant nod of his head. "Leave that to me." Then, raising his voice, he added: "What do you say to that claret, Conolly?"

"I agree with you," replied a rosy-cheeked old squire in a hunting-dress, "it 's too old,--there's little spirit left in it."

"Quite true, Tom. Wine has its dotage, like the rest of us. All that the best can do is to keep longest; and, after all, we scarcely can complain of the vintage that has a taste of its once flavor at our age. It's a long time since we were schoolfellows."

"It is not an hour less than--"

"Stop, Tom,--no more of that. Of all scores to go back upon, that of years past is the saddest."

"By Jove! I don't think so," said the hearty old squire, as he tossed off a b.u.mper. "I never remember riding better than I did to-day. Ask Beecham O'Reilly there which of us was first over the double ditch at the red barn."

"You forget, sir," said the young gentleman referred to, "that I was on an English-bred mare, and she doesn't understand these fences."

"Faith, she wasn't worse off, in that respect, than the man on her back," said old Conolly, with a hearty chuckle. "If to look before you leap be wisdom, you ought to be the shrewdest fellow in the country."

"Beecham, I believe, keeps a good place in Northamptonshire," said his father, half proudly.

"Another argument in favor of the Union, I suppose," whispered a guest in Conolly's ear.

"Well, well," sighed the old squire, "when I was a young man, we 'd have thought of bringing over a dromedary from Asia as soon as an English horse to cross the country with."

"d.i.c.k French was the only one I ever heard of backing a dromedary," said a fat old farmer-like man, from the end of the table.

"How was that, Martin?" said Daly, with a look that showed he either knew the story or antic.i.p.ated something good.

"And by all accounts, it 's the devil to ride," resumed the old fellow; "now it's the head down and the loins up, and then a roll to one side, and then to the other, and a twist in the small of your back, as if it were coming in two. Oh, by the good day! d.i.c.k gave me as bad as a st.i.tch in the side just telling me about it."

"But where did he get his experience, Martin? I never heard of it before," said Daly.

"He was a fortnight in Egypt, sir," said the old farmer. "He was in a frigate, or a man-of-war of one kind or another, off--the devil a one o'

me knows well where it was, but there was a consul there, a son of one of his father's tenants--indeed, ould French got him the place from the Government--and when he found out that d.i.c.k was on board the ship, what does he do but writes him an invitation to pa.s.s a week or ten days with him at his house, and that he 'd show him some sport. 'We 've elegant hunting,' says he; 'not foxes or hares, but a big bird, bigger nor a goose, they call--'By my conscience, I 'll forget my own name next, for I heard d.i.c.k tell the story at least twenty times."

"Was it an ostrich?" said Tom.

"No; nor an oyster either, Mr. Conolly," said the old fellow, who thought the question was meant to quiz him.

"'T was an ibis, Martin," cried Daly,--"an ibis."

"The devil a doubt of it,--that's the name. A crayture with legs as long as Mr. Beecham O'Reilly's, and a way of going--half-flying, half-walking--almost impossible to catch; and they hunt him on dromedaries. d.i.c.k liked the notion well, and as he was a favorite on board, he got lave for three days to go on sh.o.r.e and have his fun; though the captain said, at parting, 'It's not many dromedaries you'll see, d.i.c.k, for the Pasha has them all up the country at this time.' This was true enough; sorra a bit of a camel or dromedary could be seen for miles round. But however it was, the consul kept his word, and had one for d.i.c.k the next morning,--a great strapping baste, all covered with trappings of one kind or other; elegant shawls and little hearthrugs all over him.

"The others were mounted on mules or a.s.ses, any way they could, and away they went to look after the goose--the 'ibis,' I mean. Well, to be short with it, they came up with one on the bank of the river, and soon gave chase; he was a fine strong fellow, and well able to run. I wish you heard d.i.c.k tell this part of it; never was there such sport in the world, blazing away all together as fast as they could prime and load, at one time at the goose, more times at each other; the mules kicking, the a.s.ses braying, and d.i.c.k cantering about on his dromedary, upsetting every one near him, and shouting like mad. At last he pinned the goose up in a narrow corner among some old walls, and d.i.c.k thought he 'd have the brush; but sorra step the dromedary would stir; he spurred and kicked, and beat away with a stick as hard as he could, but it was all no good,--it was the carpets maybe, that saved him; for there he stood fast, just for all the world as if he was made of stone.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 077]