“See me—speak to me! It's little he was thinking of me, darling! with Lord Glengariff shaking one of his hands, and Sir Samuel Downie squeezing the other, and a dozen more crying out, 'Welcome home, Mr. Bunn! it is happy we are to see you looking so well; we were afraid you were forgetting poor Ireland and not coming back to us!' And by that time the carmen took up the chorus, and began cheering and hurrahing, 'Long life and more power to Davenport Dunn!' I give you my word, you 'd have thought it was Daniel O'Connell, or at least a new Lord-Lieutenant, if you saw the uproar and excitement there was about him.”
“And he—how did he take it?” asked she.
“Just as cool as if he had a born right to it all. 'Thank you very much,—most kind of you,' he muttered, with a little smile and a wave of his hand, as much as to say, 'There now, that'll do. Don't you see that I'm travelling incog., and don't want any more homage?'”
“Oh, no, papa,—not that,—it was rather like humility—”
“Humility!” said he, bursting into a bitter laugh,—“you know the man well! Humility! there are not ten noblemen in Ireland this minute has the pride and impudence of that man. If you saw the way he walked down the steps to his carriage, giving a little nod here, and a little smile there,—maybe offering two fingers to some one of rank in the crowd—you'd say, 'There's a Prince coming home to his own country,—see how, in all their joy, he won't let them be too familiar with him!'”
“Are you quite just—quite fair in all this, dearest papa?”
“Well, I suppose I'm not,” said he, testily. “It's more likely the fault lies in myself,—a poor, broken-down country gentleman, looking at everything on the dark side, thinking of the time when his own family were something in the land, and Mr. Davenport Dunn very lucky if he got leave to sit down in the servants'-hall. Nothing more likely than that!” added he, bitterly, as he walked up and down the little room in moody displeasure.
“No, no, papa, you mistake me,” said she, looking affectionately at him. “What I meant was this, that to a man so burdened with weighty cares—one whose brain carries so many great schemes and enterprises—a sense of humility, proud enough in its way, might naturally mingle with all the pleasures of the moment, whispering as it were to his heart, 'Be not carried away by this flattery, be not carried away by your own esteem; it is less you than the work you are destined for that men are honoring. While they seem to cheer the pilot, it is rather the glorious ocean to which he is guiding them that they address their salutations.' Might not some such consciousness as this have moved him at such a time?”
“Indeed, I don't know, and I don't much care,” said Kellett, sulkily. “I suppose people don't feel, nowadays, the way they used when I was young. There's new inventions in everything.”
“Human nature is the same in all ages!” said she, faintly.