It might be thought that in a household so full of contrarieties as Tubbermore, any new plan of pleasure would have met but a meagre success. Here, were the Kilgoffs, upon one side, full of some secret importance, and already speaking of the uncertainty of passing the spring in Ireland. There, were the Kennyfecks, utterly disorganized by intestine troubles,—mother, aunt, and daughters at open war, and only of one mind for some few minutes of each day, when they assailed the luckless Kennyfeck as the “author of all evil;” Frobisher, discontented that no handicap could be “got up,” to remunerate him for the weariness of his exile; Upton, suffering under the pangs of rejection; Sir Andrew, reduced to a skeleton by the treatment against his unhappy opiate, being condemned, as “Jim” phrased it, to “two heavy sweats without body-clothes, and a drench every day;” Meek, grown peevish at the little prospect of making anything of Cashel politically; and Cashel himself, hipped and bored by all in turn, and wearied of being the head of a house where the only pleasantry existed in the servants' hall,—and they were all rogues and thieves who made it.

It might be easily supposed these were not the ingredients which would amalgamate into any agreeable union, and that even a suggestion to that end would meet but few supporters.

Not so; the very thought of doing “anything” was a relief: each felt, perhaps, his share of shame at the general ennui, and longed for whatever gave a chance of repelling it. It was as in certain political conditions in seasons of general stagnation,—men are willing even to risk a revolution rather than continue in a state of unpromising monotony.

Linton, whose own plans required that the others should be full of occupation of one kind or other, was the first to give the impulse, by reminding Miss Meek that her sovereignty had, up to this time, been a dead letter.

“You have positively done nothing,” said he, “since your accession. Here we are, all ready to do your bidding, only waiting for the shadow of a wish on your part. There is no obstacle anywhere; pray let us commence a series of such right royal festivities as shall cause the envy of every other sovereign in Christendom.”

“I 'm sure I wish for nothing better; but nobody minds me,” said she, pouting.

“What shall be the opening, then?” said Linton, taking a sheet of paper, and seating himself, in all form, to write. “A masquerade?”

“By all means! A masquerade!” exclaimed a dozen voices; and at once a large circle gathered round the table where he sat.

“Does the country afford materials for one?” asked Jennings.

“Oh, dear, yes!” sighed Meek; “you could gather a great many important people here by a little management.”

“I 'll tell Macnevin, wha commands at Limerick, to send ye every officer wha is n't under arrest,” said Sir Andrew,—a speech received with great favor by various young ladies unknown to the reader.

Every one who knew anything of the three neighboring counties was at once summoned to form part of a select committee to name those who ought to be invited. The Chief Justice was acquainted with the principal persons, from his having gone circuit; but then, those he mentioned were rarely of the stamp to add lustre or brilliancy to a fancy ball,—indeed, as Linton whispered, “The old judge had either hanged or transported all the pleasant fellows.”

The Infantry men from Limerick were familiar with every pretty girl of that famed capital and its environs for some miles round; and as exclusiveness was not to be the rule, a very imposing list was soon drawn up.

Then came the question of receiving so large a party, and each vied with his neighbor in generous sacrifices of accommodation; even Downie vouchsafed to say that the noise would be terrible, “but one ought to submit to anything to give pleasure to his friends.”

The theatre should be the ball-room; the two drawing-rooms and the library would offer space for the company to promenade; the buffet stand in the dining-room; and supper be served in the great conservatory, which, with its trellised vines all studded with lights disposed as stars, would have a new and beautiful effect.

Sir Andrew promised two military bands, and unmarried officers À discrÉtion.

Devoted offers of assistance poured in from every side. Foraging parties were “told off” to shoot snipe and woodcocks without ceasing; and Frobisher was to ply with a four-in-hand—of Cashel's horses—to and from Limerick every day, carrying every body and every thing that was wanting.

All the servants of the guests, as well as of the house, were to be attired in a costume which, after some discussion, was decided to be Spanish.

Unlimited facilities were to be at the disposal of all, for whatever they pleased to order. Mrs. White sat down to write to Paris for an envoy of moss-roses and camellias, with a postscript from Upton on the subject of red partridges and foie gras.

Jennings dictated a despatch to Mayence for two cases of Steinberger; and Howie took notes of all for a series of papers which, in four different styles, were to appear in four periodicals simultaneously.

As each guest was at full liberty to invite some half-dozen friends, there was quite an excitement in comparing lists with each other, and speculations innumerable as to the dress and character they would appear in, for all were mysterious upon that head.

“But whar is Maister Cashel all this time?” said Sir Andrew; “methinks it wud na be vara polite na to hae his opinion upon a' this, syne he must gie the siller for it.”

“He's playing chess with Lady Kilgoff in the boudoir,” said Jennings.

“Tell Kennyfeck,” said Frobisher; “that's quite enough! Cashel calls everything where money enters, business, and hates it, in consequence.”

“Oh, dear! I'm precisely of his mind, then,” sighed Meek, caressing his whiskers.

“Kilgoff will not remain, you 'll see,” said Upton. “He is not pleased with my Lady's taste for close intimacy.”

“The Kennyfecks are going to-morrow or next day,” said another.

“So they have been every day this last week; but if some of you gentlemen will only be gallant enough to give a good reason for remaining, they 'll not stir.” This was spoken by Lady Janet in her tartest of voices, and with a steady stare at Upton, who stroked his moustaches in very palpable confusion. “Yes, Sir Harvey,” continued she, “I 'm perfectly serious, and Mr. Linton, I perceive, agrees with me.”

“As he always does, Lady Janet, when he desires to be in the right,” said Linton, bowing.

“Aw—I, aw—I did n't think it was so easy in that quarter, aw!” said Jennings, in a low semi-confidential tone.

“I 'll insure you for a fair premium, Jennings, if you have any fancy that way.”

“Aw, I don't know,—concern looks hazardous,—ha, ha, ha!—don't you think so?” But as nobody joined in his laughter, he resumed, in a lower voice, “There, Upton 's very spooney indeed about one of them.”

“It's the aunt,” said Linton,—“a very fine woman, too; what the French call beautÉ sÉvÈre; but classical, quite classical.”

“Confounded old harridan!” muttered Upton, between his teeth; “I 'd not take her with Rothschild's bank at her disposal.”

All this little chit-chat was a thing got up by Linton, while stationing himself in a position to watch Cashel and Lady Kilgoff, who sat, at a chess-table, in an adjoining room. It needed not Linton's eagle glance to perceive that neither was attentive to the game, but that they were engaged in deep and earnest conversation. Lady Kilgoff's back was towards him, but Roland's face he could see clearly, and watch the signs of anger and impatience it displayed.

“A little more noise and confusion here,” thought Linton, “and they 'll forget that they 're not a hundred miles away;” and, acting on this, he set about arranging the company in various groups; and while he disposed a circle of very fast-talking old ladies, to discuss rank and privileges in one corner, he employed some others in devising a character quadrille, over which Mrs. White was to preside; and then, seating a young lady at the piano,—one of those determined performers who run a steeple-chase through waltz, polka, and mazurka, for hours uninterruptedly,—he saw that he had manufactured a very pretty chaos “off-hand.”

While hurrying hither and thither, directing, instructing, and advising every one, he contrived also, as it were by mere accident, to draw across the doorway of the boudoir the heavy velvet curtain that performed the function of a door. The company were far too busied in their various occupations to remark this; far less was it perceived by Lady Kilgoff or Roland. Nobody knew better than Linton how to perform the part of fly-wheel to that complicated engine called society; he could regulate its pace to whatever speed he pleased; and upon this occasion he pushed the velocity to the utmost; and, by dint of that miraculous magnetism by which men of warm imagination and quick fancy inspire their less susceptible neighbors, he spread the contagion of his own merry humor, and converted the drawing-room into a scene of almost riotous gayety.

“They want no more leadership now,” said he, and slipped from the room and hastened towards the library, where sat Lord Kilgoff, surrounded by folios of Grotius and Puffendorf,—less, indeed, for perusal and study than as if inhaling the spirit of diplomatic craft from their presence.

“Nay, my Lord, this is too much,” said he, entering with a smile; “some relaxation is really necessary. Pray come and dissipate a little with us in the drawing-room.”

“Don't lose my place, however,” said he, smiling far more graciously than his wont. “I was just considering that assertion of Grotius, wherein be lays it down that 'a river is always objectionable as a national boundary.' I dissent completely from the doctrine. A river has all the significance of a natural frontier. It is the line of demarcation drawn from the commencement of the world between different tracts, and at once suggests separation.”

“Very true, my Lord; I see your observation in all its justice. A river, in the natural world, is like the distinguishing symbol of rank in the social, and should ever be a barrier against unwarrantable intrusion.”

Lord Kilgoff smiled, tapped his snuff-box, and nodded, as though to say, “Continue.” Linton understood the hint in this wise, and went on,—

“And yet, my Lord, there is reason to fear that, with individuals as with nations, these demarcations are losing their prestige. What people call enlightenment and progress, nowadays, is the mere negation of these principles.”

“Every age has thrown some absurd theory to the surface, sir,” said Lord Kilgoff, proudly; “Southcotians, Mormons, and Radicals among the rest. But truth, sir, has always the ascendency in the long run. Facts cannot be sneered down; and the Pyrenees and the English peerage are facts, Mr. Linton,—and similar facts, too!”

Linton looked like one who divided himself between rebuke and conviction,—submissive, but yet satisfied.

“Give me your arm, Linton; I'm still very far from strong,—this place disagrees with me. I fancy the air is rheumatic, and I am impatient to get away; but the fact is, I have been lingering in the hope of receiving some tidings from the Foreign Office, which I had rather would reach me here than at my own house.”

“Precisely, my Lord; the request, then, has the air—I mean it shows you have been sought after by the Minister, and solicited to take office when not thinking of the matter yourself.”

“Quite so; I open the despatch, as it may be, at the breakfast-table, jocularly observing that it looks official, eh?”

“Exactly, my Lord; you even surmise that it may prove an appointment you have solicited for one of your numerous protÉgÉs,—something in the Colonies, or the 'troop,' without purchase, in the Blues?”

Lord Kilgoff laughed—for him, heartily—at Linton's concurrence in his humor, and went on,—

“And when I open it, Linton, and read the contents, eh?”

Here he paused, as if asking what effect his astute friend would ascribe to such pleasant tidings.

“I think I see your Lordship throw the heavy packet from you with a 'pshaw!' of disappointment; while you mutter to your next neighbor, 'I have been warding off this these two or three last years; but there's no help for it: the King insists upon my taking the mission at Florence!'”

“I must say, Mr. Linton, your conjecture strikes me as strained and unnatural. The appointment to represent my august master at the court of Tuscany might be a worthy object of my ambition. I cannot agree with the view you take of it.”

Linton saw that he had “charged too far,” and hastened to secure his retreat.

“I spoke, my Lord, rather with reference to your regret at quitting the scenes of your natural influence at home, of withdrawing from this distracted country the high example of your presence, the wisdom of your counsels, the munificence of your charity. These are sad exports at such a time as this!”

Lord Kilgoflf sighed, he sighed heavily; he knew Ireland had gone through many trials and afflictions, but the dark future which Linton pictured had never presented itself so full of gloom before. He doubtless felt that when he left the ship she would not long survive the breakers; and, sunk in these reveries, he walked along at Linton's side till they gained the picture-gallery, at one extremity of which lay the boudoir we have spoken of.

“Poor things, my Lord!” said Linton, shrugging his shoulders as he passed along, and casting a contemptuous glance at the apocryphal Vandykes and Murillos around, and for whose authenticity he had himself, in nearly every case, been the guarantee.

Lord Kilgoff gave a fleeting look at them, but said nothing; and Linton, to occupy time, went on,—

“New men, like our friend here, should never aspire above the Flemish school. Your Cuyps, and Hobbemas, and Vanderveldes are easily understood, and their excellences are soon learned. Even Mieris and Gerard Dow are open to such connoisseurship; but, to feel the calm nobility of a Velasquez, the sublime dignity of a Vandyck, or the glorious intellectuality of a Titian portrait, a man must be a born gentleman, in its most exalted signification. What a perfect taste your collection at Kilgoff displays! All Spanish or Venetian, if I mistake not.”

“Are we not like to disturb a tÊte-À-tÊte, Linton?” said Lord Kilgoff, nudging his friend's arm, and laughing slyly, as he pointed through the large frame of plate-glass that formed a door to the boudoir.

“By Jove!” said Linton, in a low whisper, “and so we were; you are always thoughtful, my Lord!”

“You know the adage, Linton, 'An old poacher makes the best gamekeeper!' Ha, ha, ha!”

“Ah, my Lord! I have heard as much of you. But who can they be?”

“We shall soon see, for it is always better in these cases to incur the rudeness of interruption than the meanness of espionage;” and so saying, Lord Kilgoff opened the door and entered. Although in so doing the noise he made might easily have attracted notice, the chess-players, either deep in their preoccupation, or habituated to the uproar of the drawing-room, paid no attention, so that it was only as he exclaimed “Lady Kilgoff!” that both started, and beheld him, as, pale with passion, he stood supporting himself on the back of a chair.

“Pray don't stir, sir; be seated, I beg,” said he, addressing Cashel, in a voice that shook with anger; “my interruption of your game was pure accident.”

“No apologies, my Lord; we are both but indifferent players,” said Cashel, smiling, but yet very far from at ease.

“Your seclusion at least bespeaks the interest you feel in the game. Mr. Linton and I can vouch—” (Here his Lordship turned to call his witness; but he had left the court, or, more properly speaking, had never entered it.)

“Linton here?” said Lady Kilgoff, in a voice which, though scarce a whisper, was actually thrilling in the intensity of its meaning.

“I hope, sir, when you have lived somewhat more in the world, you will learn that the first duty of a host is not to compromise a guest.”

“I am most willing to be taught by your Lordship's better knowledge; but if I am to benefit by the lesson in the present case, it must be more clearly expressed,” said Cashel, calmly.

“As for you, madam,” said Lord Kilgoff, “I cannot compliment you on the progress you have made in acquiring the habits and instincts of 'your order.'”

“My Lord!” exclaimed she; and then, with a countenance wherein rebuke and entreaty were blended, she stopped.

“I am aware, sir, what Éclat young gentlemen nowadays derive from the supposed preference of individuals of exalted rank; and I hope that your vanity may be most in fault here.”

“My Lord, one word,—only one,” said Cashel, eagerly; “I am sadly afflicted with the infirmity of hot temper, which never gives way more surely, nor more suddenly, than when accused wrongfully. Such is your Lordship doing at present. I would entreat you not to say what a very little calm reflection will call upon you to retract.”

“This concerns me, sir, most of all,” said Lady Kilgoff, rising, and drawing herself proudly up. “These unworthy suspicions had never occurred to you had they not been prompted; but you might have believed that when I sacrificed all I have done for that rank of which so incessantly you remind me, that I would not rashly hazard the position for which I paid so dearly. Let us leave this now, my Lord; Mr. Cashel can scarcely desire a presence that has so ungratefully rewarded his hospitality, and I, at least, shall be spared the mortification of meeting one who has been a witness to such an outrage.”

“This is not to end here, sir,” said Lord Kilgoff, in a whisper to Cashel, who, more intent upon the words Lady Kilgoff had just uttered, carelessly answered,—

“As you will.”

“Good-bye, Mr. Cashel,” said she, holding out her hand; “I wish I was leaving a better souvenir behind me than the memory of this last scene.”

“I will never remember it, madam,” said Cashel; “but I would beg that you may not let an incident so trivial, so perfectly devoid of everything like importance, hasten your going. Nothing save malevolence and calumny could suggest any other impression, and I would beseech you not to favor, by such a step as a hasty departure, the malice that scandal-lovers may circulate.”

“This is matter for my consideration, sir,” said Lord Kilgoflf, haughtily; while, drawing Lady Kilgoffs arm within his own, he made a vigorous attempt to move away with dignity.