They overwhelmed him with questions about his shipwreck and his perils, and his frank, simple manner delighted them. Their own hardy natures could feel for such dangers as he told of, and knew how to prize the courage that had confronted them.
“These are all our guests to-day, Harry,” said Kate. “We’ll come back and see them by-and-by. Meanwhile, come with me. It is our first Christmas dinner together; who knows what long years and time may do? It may not be our last.”
With all those varied powers of pleasing she was mistress of, she made the time pass delightfully. She told little incidents of her Dalradem life, with humorous sketches of the society there; she described the old Castle itself, and the woods around it, with the feeling of a painter; and then she sang for him snatches of Italian or Spanish romance to the guitar, till Harry, in the ecstasy of his enjoyment, almost forgot his grief.
From time to time, too, they would pass out and visit the revellers in the Abbey, where, close packed together, the hardy peasantry sat drinking to the happy Christmas that had restored to them the Luttrell of Arran.
The wild cheer with which they greeted Harry as he came amongst them sent a thrill through his heart. “Yes, this was home; these were his own!”
It was almost daybreak ere the festivities concluded, and Kate whispered in Harry’s ear: “You’ll have a commission from me to-morrow. I shall want you to go to Dublin for me. Will you go?”
“If I can leave you,” muttered he, as with bent-down head he moved away.
CHAPTER LXVII. A CHRISTMAS ABROAD
Let us turn one moment to another Christmas. A far more splendid table was that around which the guests were seated. Glittering glass and silver adorned it, and the company was a courtly and distinguished one.