"Shure, and why wouldn't I—and I just married? A purty thing for me just now, to be took up among a lot of blackguard ruffians for murthering a king's officer."
"Well, Denis, I won't go back now,—it would look odd and do no good; so do you go back and drink a tumbler of punch with the men, and dance a turn or two with the girls, as you should on your wedding night; and by and by I'll come down again as if to see what was going on—and to walk home with Miss Feemy. The Captain must go back to Ballycloran for his horse; and if he can be persuaded that there is any danger, he can go up and sleep at the cottage; for I tell you, if they mean to hurt him at all, it's on the road home to Mohill they'd make the attempt. Do you go in and say nothing about it, and I'll be down by and by."
Father John walked away towards his house, and Denis McGovery went back with a heavy heart to dance at his own wedding; for though his solicitude for the "king's officer" would not have been of the most intense kind, had he thought that he was to be murdered anywhere else, he had a great horror at the idea of any evil happening to that important personage, when it could in any way affect his own comfort.
When Denis returned into Mrs. Mehan's big kitchen, the amusements of the evening—dancing and drinking—were on the point of commencing. Shamuth of the pipes, the celebrated composer and musician, was sitting in the corner of the huge fireplace, with a tumbler of punch within reach of his hand, preparing his instrument,—squeaking, and puffing, and blowing in the most approved preparatory style. Mary was working and toiling again for the benefit of her guests—carrying kettles of boiling water into the inner room—emptying pounds of brown sugar into slop-basins and mugs—telling the boys to take their punch—taking a drop herself now and again, with some one who was wishing her health and happiness, and comfort with the man she'd got—inciting the girls to go and dance—and scolding her brother and husband, because, "bad manners to them, divil a hand they'd lend to help her, and she with so much to do, and so many to mind."
"And now, Miss Feemy, if you'd only get up and begin, dear, the others would soon folly; come, Captain Ussher—would yer honer jist stand up with Miss Feemy?"
"Oh, no, Mary,—you're the bride you know; Captain Ussher must dance with you first."
"Oh! laws, Miss, but that'd be too much honour intirely."
"No, Mrs. McGovery, but it's I that'll be honoured; so if you will be good enough to stand up with me, I shall be glad to shake a foot with you:" and the gallant Captain led Mary into the middle of the floor.
"But, Captain, dear, sorrow a sup of dhrink did I see you take this blessed evening; shure then you'll let me get you a glass of wine before we all begin, jist to prevent your being smothered with the dust like; shure, yer honour hasn't taken a dhrop yet."
"I won't be so long, Mary; but I won't have the wine yet, I'll wash the dust out with a tumbler of punch just now. Here's your husband, you must make him dance with the bridesmaid."