Count Bunker Part 9
(this with the most insinuating smile)--"I bid you welcome to your ancestral estates. Remembering the conquests your ancestors used to make both in war and in a gentler sphere" (Mrs. Gallosh looked archness itself), "we ladies, I suppose, should regard your home-coming with some misgivings; but, my lord, every bonny Prince Charlie has his bonny Flora Macdonald, and in this land of mountain, mist, and flood, where 'Dark Ben More frowns o'er the wave,' and where 'Ilka la.s.sie has her laddie,'
you will find a thousand romantic maidens ready to welcome you as Ellen welcomed Fitz-James! For centuries your heroic race has adorned the halls and trod the heather of Hechnahoul, and for centuries more we hope to see the offspring of your lordship and some winsome Celtic maid rule these cataracts and glens!"
At this point the exertion of shouting down six bagpipes in active eruption caused a temporary cessation of the lady's eloquence, and the pause was filled by the cheers of the crowd led by the "Hip-hip-hip!"
of Count Bunker, and by the broken and fortunately inaudible protests of the embarra.s.sed father of future Tulliwuddles. In a moment Mrs. Gallosh had resumed--
"Lord Tulliwuddle, though I myself am only a stranger to your clan, your Highland heart will feel rea.s.sured when I mention that I belong through my grandmother to the kindred clan of the Mackays!" ("Hear, hear!" from two or three ladies and gentlemen, evidently guests of the Gallosh.) "We are but visitors at Hechnahoul, yet we a.s.sure you that no more devoted hearts beat in all Caledonia! Lord Tulliwuddle, we welcome you!"
"Put your hand on your heart and bow," whispered Bunker. "Keep on bowing and say nothing!"
Mechanically the bewildered Baron obeyed, and for a few moments presented a spectacle not unlike royalty in procession.
But as some reply from him had evidently been expected at this point, and the pipers had even ceased playing lest any word of their chief's should be lost, a pause ensued which might have grown embarra.s.sing had not the Count promptly stepped forward.
"I think," he said, indicating two other snow-white figures who held gigantic bouquets, "that a pleasant part of the ceremony still remains before us."
With a grateful glance at this discerning guest, Mrs. Gallosh thereupon led forward her two youngest daughters (aged fifteen and thirteen), who, with an air so delightfully coy that it fell like a ray of sunshine on the poor Baron's heart, presented him with their flowery symbols of Hechnahoul's obeisance to its lord.
His consternation returned with the advance of the two ancient clansmen who, after a guttural panegyric in Gaelic, offered him further symbols--a claymore and target, very formidable to behold. All these gifts having been adroitly transferred to the arms of the footmen by the ubiquitous Count, the Baron's emotions swiftly pa.s.sed through another phase when the eldest Miss Gallosh, aged twenty, with burning eyes and the most distracting tresses, dropped him a sweeping courtesy and offered a final contribution--a fiery cross, carved and painted by her own fair hands.
A fresh round of applause followed this, and then a sudden silence fell upon the a.s.sembly. All eyes were turned upon the chieftain: not even a dog barked: it was the moment of a lifetime.
"Can you manage a speech, old man?" whispered Bunker.
"Ach, no, no, no! Let me escape. Oh, let me fly!"
"Bury your face in your hands and lean on my shoulder," prompted the Count.
This stage direction being obeyed, the most effective tableau conceivable was presented, and the climax was reached when the Count, after a brief dumb-show intended to indicate how vain were Lord Tulliwuddle's efforts to master his emotion, spoke these words in the most thrilling accents he could muster:
"Fair ladies and brave men of Hechnahoul! Your chief, your friend, your father requests me to express to you the sentiments which his over-wrought emotions prevent him from uttering himself. On his behalf I tender to his kind and courteous friends, Mr., Mrs., and the fair maids Gallosh, the thanks of a long-absent exile returned to his native land for the welcome they have given him! To his devoted clan he not only gives his thanks, but his promise that all rents shall be reduced by one half--so long as he dwells among them!" (Tumultuous applause, disturbed only by a violent e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n from a large man in knickerbockers whom Bunker justly judged to be the factor.)
"With his last breath he shall perpetually thunder: Ahasheen--comara--mohr!"
The Tulliwuddle slogan, p.r.o.nounced with the most conscientious accuracy of which a Sa.s.senach was capable, proved as effective a curtain as he had antic.i.p.ated; and amid a perfect babel of cheering and bagpiping the chieftain was led to his host's carriage.
CHAPTER IX
"Well, the worst of it is over," said Bunker cheerfully.
The Baron groaned. "Ze vorst is only jost beginning to gommence."
They were sitting over a crackling fire of logs in the sitting-room of the suite which their host had reserved for his honored visitors. How many heirlooms and dusky portraits the romantic thoughtfulness of the ladies had managed to crowd into this apartment for the occasion were hard to compute; enough, certainly, one would think, to inspire the most sluggish-blooded Tulliwuddle with a martial exultation. Instead, the chieftain groaned again.
"Tell zem I am ill. I cannot gom to dinner. To-morrow I shall take ze train back to London. Himmel! Vy vas I fool enof to act soch dishonorable lies! I deceive all these kind peoples!"
"It isn't that which worries me," said Bunker imperturbably. "I am only afraid that if you display this spirit you won't deceive them."
"I do not vish to," said the Baron sulkily.
It required half an hour of the Count's most artful blandishments to persuade him that duty, honor, and prudence all summoned him to the feast. This being accomplished, he next endeavored to convince him that he would feel more comfortable in the airy freedom of the Tulliwuddle tartan. But here the Baron was obdurate. Now that the kilt lay ready to his hand he could not be persuaded even to look at it. In gloomy silence he donned his conventional evening dress and announced, last thing before they left their room--
"Bonker, say no more! To-morrow morning I depart!"
Their hostess had explained that a merely informal dinner awaited them, since his lordship (she observed) would no doubt prefer a quiet evening after his long journey. But Mrs. Gallosh was one of those good ladies who are fond of asking their friends to take "pot luck," and then providing them with fourteen courses; or suggesting a "quiet little evening together," when they have previously removed the drawing-room carpet. It is an affectation of modesty apt to disconcert the retiring guest who takes them at their word. In the drawing-room of Mrs. Gallosh the startled Baron found a.s.sembled--firstly, the Gallosh family, consisting of all those whose acquaintance we have already made, and in addition two stalwart school-boy sons; secondly, their house-party, who comprised a Mr. and Mrs. Rentoul, from the same metropolis of commerce as Mr. Gallosh, and a hatchet-faced young man with gla.s.ses, answering to the name of Mr. Cromarty-Gow; and, finally, one or two neighbors. These last included Mr. M'Fadyen, the large factor; the Established Church, U.F., Wee Free, Episcopalian, and Original Secession ministers, all of whom, together with their kirks, flourished within a four-mile radius of the Castle; the wives to three of the above; three young men and their tutor, being some portion of a reading-party in the village; and Mrs.
Cameron-Campbell and her five daughters, from a neighboring dower-house upon the loch.
It was fortunate that all these people were prepared to be impressed with Lord Tulliwuddle, whatever he should say or do; and further, that the unique position of such a famous hereditary magnate even led them to antic.i.p.ate some marked deviation from the ordinary canons of conduct.
Otherwise, the gloomy brows; the stare, apparently haughty, in reality alarmed; the strange accent and the brief responses of the chief guest, might have caused an unfavorable opinion of his character.
As it was, his aloofness, however natural, would probably have proved depressing had it not been for the gay charm and agreeable condescension of the other n.o.bleman. Seldom had more rested upon that adventurer's shoulders, and never had he acquitted himself with greater credit. It was with considerable secret concern that he found himself placed at the opposite end of the table from his friend, but his tongue rattled as gaily and his smiles came as readily as ever. With Mrs. Cameron-Campbell on one side, and a minister's lady upon the other, his host two places distant, and a considerable audience of silent eaters within earshot, he successfully managed to divert the attention of quite half the table from the chieftain's moody humor.
"I always feel at home with a Scotsman," he discoursed genially.
"His imagination is so quick, his intellect so clear, his honesty so remarkable, and" (with an irresistible glance at the minister's lady) "his wife so charming."
"Ha, ha!" laughed Mr. Gallosh, who was mellowing rapidly under the influence of his own champagne. "I'm verra glad to see you know good folks when you meet them. What do you think now of the English?"
Having previously a.s.sured himself that his audience was neat Scotch, the polished Austrian unblushingly replied--
"The Englishman, I have observed, has a slightly slower imagination, a denser intelligence, and is less conspicuous for perfect honesty. His womankind also have less of that nameless grace and ethereal beauty which distinguish their Scottish sisters."
It is needless to say that a more popular visitor never was seen than this discriminating foreigner, and if his ambitions had not risen above a merely personal triumph, he would have been in the highest state of satisfaction. But with a disinterested eye he every now and then sought the farther end of the table, where, between his hostess and her charming eldest daughter, and facing his factor, the Baron had to endure his ordeal unsupported.
"I wonder how the devil he's getting on!" he more than once said to himself.
For better or for worse, as the dinner advanced, he began to hear the Court accent more frequently, till his curiosity became extreme.
"His lordship seems in better spirits," remarked Mr. Gallosh.
"I hope to Heaven he may be!" was the fervent thought of Count Bunker.
At that moment the point was settled. With his old roar of exuberant gusto the Baron announced, in a voice that drowned even the five ministers--
"Ach, yes, I vill toss ze caber to-morrow! I vill toss him--so high!"
(his napkin flapped upwards). "How long shall he be? So tall as my castle: Mees Gallosh, you shall help me? Ach, yes! Mit hands so fair ze caber vill spring like zis!"
His pudding-spoon, in vivid ill.u.s.tration, skipped across the table and struck his factor smartly on the shirt-front.
"Sare, I beg your pardon," he beamed with a graciousness that charmed Mrs. Gallosh even more than his spirited conversation--"Ach, do not return it, please! It is from my castle silver--keep it in memory of zis happy night!"
The royal generosity of this act almost reconciled Mrs. Gallosh to the loss of one of her own silver spoons.
"Saved!" sighed Bunker, draining his gla.s.s with a relish he had not felt in any item of the feast hitherto.
Now that the Baron's courage had returned, no heraldic lion ever pranced more bravely. His laughter, his jests, his compliments were showered upon the delighted diners. Mr. Gallosh and he drank healths down the whole length of the table "mit no tap-heels!" at least four times.
He peeled an orange for Miss Gallosh, and cut the skin into the most diverting figures, pressing her hand tenderly as he presented her with these works of art. He inquired of Mrs. Gallosh the names of the clergymen, and, shouting something distantly resembling these, toasted them each and all with what he conceived to be appropriate comments.
Finally he rose to his feet, and, to the surprise and delight of all, delivered the speech they had been disappointed of earlier in the day.