"'To Saxon laws For Oireland's cause Thim same did breok allaygiance, An' marched away In war's array To froighten the Canajians.
"'We soon intind Our wee to wind Across the woide Atlantic, Besaige the ports, Blow up the forts, An' droive the Saxon frantic.
"'An' thin in loine, Our hosts will join Beneath the Oirish pinnint, Till Dublin falls, An' on its walls We hang the lord-liftinnint.
"'The Saxon crew We'll thin purshoo Judiciously and calmly-- On Windsor's plain We'll hang the Quane An' all the royal family.
"'An'thin-begob!
No more they'll rob Ould Oireland of her taxes, An' Earth shall rowl From powl to powl More aisy on its axis.'"
Now all the time O'Halloran was talking and singing, I had scarcely heard a word that he said. Once I caught the general run of his remarks, and said a few words to make him think I was attending; but my thoughts soon wandered off, and I was quite unconscious that he was talking rank treason. How do I know so much about it now, it may be asked. To this I reply that after-circumstances gave me full information about was said and sung. And of this the above will give a general idea.
But my thoughts were on far other subjects than Fenianism. It was the Lady of the Ice that filled my heart and my mind. Lost and found, and lost again! With me it was nothing but--"O Nora! Nora! Wherefore art thou, Nora?"--and all that sort of thing, you know.
Lost and found! Lost and found! A capital title for a sensation novel, but a bad thing, my boy, to be ringing through a poor devil's brain.
Now, through my brain there rang that identical refrain, and nothing else. And all my thoughts and words the melancholy burden bore of never--never more. How could I enjoy the occasion? What was conviviality to me, or I to conviviality? O'Halloran's words were unheeded and unheard. While Nora was near, he used to seem a brilliant being, but Nora was gone!
And why had she gone? Why had she been so cut up? I had said but little, and my mistake had been hushed up by O'Halloran's laughter. Why had she retired? And why, when I spoke to her of my love, had she showed such extraordinary agitation? Was it--oh, was it that she too loved, not wisely but too well? O Nora! Oh, my Lady of the Ice! Well did you say it was a dreadful mistake! Oh, mistake--irreparable, despairing! And could I never see her sweet face again?
By this, which is a pretty fair specimen of my thoughts, it will be plainly seen that I was in a very agitated frame of mind, and still clung as fondly and as frantically as ever to my one idea of the Lady of the Ice.
One thing came amid my thoughts like a flash of light into darkness, and that was that Jack, at least, was not crossing my path, nor was he a dog in my manger; Miss O'Halloran might be his, but she was nothing to me. Who Miss O'Halloran was, I now fully understood. It was Marion-- Marion with the sombre, sad face, and the piercing, lustrous eyes.
Well, be she who she might, she was no longer standing between Jack and me. I could regain my lost friend at any rate, I could explain every thing to him. I could easily anticipate the wild shrieks of laughter with which he would greet my mistake, but that mattered not. I was determined to hunt him up. All my late bitter feeling against him vanished, and I began to feel a kind of longing for his great broad brow, his boyish carelessness, his never-ending blunders. So at an early hour I rose, and informed O'Halloran that I had an engagement at eleven o'clock, and would have to start.
"It's sorry I am," said he, "but I won't deteen ye."
CHAPTER XXVI.
A FEW PARTING WORDS WITH O'HALLORAN.--HIS TOUCHING PARENTAL TENDERNESS, HIGH CHIVALRIC SENTIMENT, AND LOFTY SENSE OF HONOR.--PISTOLS FOR TWO.-- PLEASANT AND HARMONIOUS ARRANGEMENT.--"ME BOY, YE'RE AN HONOR TO YER SEX!"
"It's sorry I am," said O'Halloran, "but I won't deteen ye, for I always rispict an engeegemint."
He stopped and looked at me with a benevolent smile. I had risen from my chair, and was standing before him.
"Sit down a momint," said he. "There's a subjict I wish to mintion, the considhereetion of which I've postponed till now."
I resumed my seat in some surprise.
"Me boy," said he, in a tender and paternal voice, "it's now toime for me to speak to ye about the ayvint of which I was a casual oi-witniss.
I refer to your addhrissis to me woife. Don't intherrupt me. I comprayhind the whole matter. The leedies are all fond of ye. So they are of me. Ye're a devvil of a fellow with them--an' so am I. We comprayhind one another. You see we must have a mayting."
"A meeting!"
"Yis--of coorse. A jool. There's nothing else to be done."
"You understand," said I, "of course, the nature of my awkward mistake, and the cause of it."
"Don't mintion it. Me ondherstand? Of coorse. Am I an owl? Be dad, I nivir laughed so much these tin years. Ondherstand! Every bit of it.
But we won't have any expleeneetions about that. What concerns us is the code of honor, and the jewty of gintlemin. A rigid sinse of honor, and a shuprame reygard for the sancteties of loife, requoire that any voioleetion, howivir onintintional, be submitted and subjicted to the only tribunal of chivalry--the eencient and maydoayval orjil of the jool."
I confess I was affected, and deeply, by the lofty attitude which O'Halloran assumed. He hadn't the slightest hard feeling toward me. He wasn't in the smallest degree jealous. He was simply a calm adherent to a lofty and chivalrous code. His honor had been touched ignorantly, no doubt--yet still it had been touched, and he saw no other course to follow than the one laid down by chivalry.
"My friend," said I, enthusiastically, "I appreciate your delicacy, and your lofty sentiment. This is true chivalry. You surpass yourself. You are sublime!"
"I know I am," said O'Halloran, navely.
A tear trembled in his eye. He did net seek to conceal his generous emotion. That tear rolled over and dropped into his tumbler, and hallowed the draught therein.
"So then," said I, "we are to have a meeting--but where, and when?"
"Whinivir it shoots you, and wherivir. I'm afraid it'll take you out of your wee. We'll have to go off about twinty moiles. There's a moighty convaynient place there, I'm sorry it's not nayrer, but it can't be helped. I've had three or fower maytings there mesilf this last year.
You'll be deloighted with it whin you once get there. There's good whiskey there too. The best in the country. We'll go there."
"And when?"
"Well, well--the seconds may areenge about that. How'll nixt Monday do?"
"Delightfully, if it suits you."
"Oh, I'll be shooted at any toime."
"What shall we meet with?" I asked.
"Sure that's for you to decoide."
"Pistols," I suggested.
O'Halloran nodded.
"I really have no preference. I'll leave it to you if you like," said I.
O'Halloran rose--a benevolent smile illumined his face. He pressed my hand.
"Me boy," said he, with the same paternal tone which he had thus far maintained, "don't mintion it. Aihter will do. We'll say pistols. Me boy, ye're as thrue as steel--" He paused, and then wringing my hand, he said in a voice tremulous with emotion--"Me boy, ye're an honor to yer sex!"