LITMIR.BIZ

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were my thoughts as the dancers flew past, and many whom I had remarked at the beginning of the evening as handsome and attractive, seemed now without a trace of either – when suddenly Louisa Bellew came by, her step as light, her every gesture as graceful, her cheek as blooming, and her liquid eye as deeply beaming as when first I saw her. The excitement of the dance had slightly flushed her face, and heightened the expression its ever-varying emotions lent it.

      Handsome as I before had thought her, there was a look of pride about her now that made her lovely to my eyes. As I continued to gaze after her, I did not perceive for some time that the guests were rapidly taking their leave, and already the rooms were greatly thinned. Every moment now, however, bore evidence of the fact: the unceasing roll of carriages to the door, the clank of the steps, the reiterated cry to drive on, followed by the call for the next carriage, all betokened departure. Now and then, too, some cloaked and hooded figure would appear at the door of the drawing-room, peering anxiously about for a daughter, a sister, or a friend who still lingered in the dance, averring it ‘was impossible to go, that she was engaged for another set.’ The disconsolate gestures, the impatient menaces of the shawled spectres – for, in truth, they seemed like creatures of another world come back to look upon the life they left – are of no avail: the seductions of the ‘major’ are stronger than the frowns of mamma, and though a rowing may come in the morning, she is resolved to have a reel at night.

      An increased noise and tumult below-stairs at the same moment informed me that the supper-party were at length about to separate. I started up at once, wishing to see Miss Bellew again ere I took my leave, when O’Grady seized me by the arm and hurried me away.

      ‘Come along, Hinton! Not a moment to lose; the duke is going.’

      ‘Wait an instant,’ said I, ‘I wish to speak to – ’

      ‘Another time, my dear fellow; another time. The duke is delighted with the Rooneys, and we are going to have Paul knighted!’

      With these words he dragged me along, dashing down the stairs like a madman. As we reached the door of the dining-room we found his grace, who, with one hand on Lord Dudley’s shoulder, was endeavouring to steady himself by the other.

      ‘I say, O’Grady, is that you? Very powerful Burgundy this – It ‘s not possible it can be morning!’

      ‘Yes, your grace – half-past seven o’clock.’

      ‘Indeed, upon my word, your friends are very charming people. What did you say about knighting some one? Oh, I remember: Mr. Rooney, wasn’t it? Of course, nothing could be better!’

      ‘Come, Hinton, have you got a sword?’ said O’Grady; ‘I ‘ve mislaid mine somehow. There, that ‘ll do. Let us try and find Paul now.’

      Into the supper-room we rushed; but what a change was there! The brilliant tables, resplendent with gold plate, candelabras, and flowers, were now despoiled and dismantled. On the floor, among broken glasses, cracked decanters, pyramids of jelly, and pagodas of blancmange, lay scattered in every attitude the sleeping figures of the late guests. Mrs. Rooney alone maintained her position, seated in a large chair, her eyes closed, a smile of Elysian happiness playing upon her lips. Her right arm hung gracefully over the side of the chair, where lately his grace had kissed her hand at parting. Overcome, in all probability, by the more than human happiness of such a moment, she had sunk into slumber, and was murmuring in her dreams such short and broken phrases as the following: – ‘Ah, happy day! – What will Mrs. Tait say? – The lord mayor, indeed! – Oh, my poor head! I hope it won’t be turned. – Holy Agatha, pray for us! your grace, pray for us I – Isn’t he a beautiful man? Hasn’t he the darling white teeth?’

      ‘Where’s Paul?’ said O’Grady; ‘where’s Paul, Mrs. Rooney?’ as he jogged her rather rudely by the arm.

      ‘Ah, who cares for Paul?’ said she, still sleeping; ‘don’t be bothering me about the like of him.’

      ‘Egad! this is conjugal, at any rate,’ said Phil

      ‘I have him!’ cried I; ‘here he is!’ as I stumbled over a short, thick figure, who was propped up in a corner of the room. There he sat, his head sunk upon his bosom, his hands listlessly resting on the floor. A large jug stood beside him, in the concoction of whose contents he appeared to have spent the last moments of his waking state. We shook him, and called him by his name, but to no purpose; and, as we lifted up his head, we burst out a-laughing at the droll expression of his face; for he had fallen asleep in the act of squeezing a lemon in his teeth, the half of which not only remained there still, but imparted to his features the twisted and contorted expression that act suggests.

      ‘Are you coming, O’Grady?’ now cried the duke impatiently.

      ‘Yes, my lord,’ cried Phil, as he rushed towards the door. ‘This is too bad, Hinton: that confounded fellow could not possibly be moved. I’ll try and carry him.’ As he spoke, he hurried back towards the sleeping figure of Mr. Rooney, while I made towards the duke.

      As Lord Dudley had gone to order up the carriages, his grace was standing alone at the foot of the stairs, leaning his back against the banisters, his eyes opening and shutting alternately as his head nodded every now and then forward, overcome by sleep and the wine he had drunk. Exactly in front of him, but crouching in the attitude of an Indian monster, sat Corny Delany. To keep himself from the cold, he had wrapped himself up in his master’s cloak, and the only part of his face perceptible was the little wrinkled forehead, and the malicious-looking fiery eyes beneath it, firmly fixed on the duke’s countenance.

      ‘Give me your sword,’ said his grace, turning to me, in a tone half sleeping, half commanding; ‘give me your sword, sir!’

      Drawing it from the scabbard, I presented it respectfully.

      ‘Stand a little on one side, Hinton. Where is he? Ah! quite right. Kneel down, sir; kneel down, I say!’ These words, addressed to Corny, produced no other movement in him than a slight change in his attitude, to enable him to extend his expanded hand above his eyes, and take a clearer view of the duke.

      ‘Does he hear me, Hinton? Do you hear me, sir?’

      ‘Do you hear his grace?’ said I, endeavouring with a sharp kick of my foot to assist his perceptions.

      ‘To be sure I hear him,’ said Corny; ‘why wouldn’t I hear him?’

      ‘Kneel down, then,’ said I.

      ‘Devil a bit of me’ll kneel down. Don’t I know what he’s after well enough? Ach na bocklish! Sorrow else he ever does nor make fun of people.’

      ‘Kneel down, sir!’ said his grace, in an accent there was no refusing to obey. ‘What is your name?’

      ‘Oh, murther! Oh, heavenly Joseph!’ cried Corny, as I hurled him down upon his knees, ‘that I ‘d ever live to see the day!’

      ‘What is his d – d name?’ said the duke passionately.

      ‘Corny, your grace – Corny Delany.’

      ‘There, that’ll do,’ as with a hearty slap of the sword, not on his shoulder, but on his bullet head, he cried out, ‘Rise, Sir Corny Delany!’

      ‘Och, the devil a one of me will ever get up out of this same spot. Oh, wirra, wirra! how will I ever show myself again after this disgrace?’

      Leaving Corny to his lamentations, the duke walked towards the door. Here above a hundred people were now assembled, their curiosity excited in no small degree by a picket of light dragoons, who occupied the middle of the street, and were lying upon the ground, or leaning on their saddles, in all the wearied attitudes of a night-watch. In fact, the duke had forgotten to dismiss his guard of honour, who had accompanied him to the theatre, and thus had spent the dark hours of the night keeping watch and ward over the proud dwelling of the Rooneys. A dark frown settled on the duke’s features as he perceived the mistake, and muttered between his teeth, ‘How they will talk of this in England!’ The next moment, bursting into a hearty fit of laughter, he stepped into the carriage, and amid a loud cheer from the mob, by whom he was recognised, drove rapidly away.

      Seated

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