“Glad to see you amongst us, my Lord,” said Cashel, as he placed an arm-chair, and assisted the old man to his seat. “I have just been telling my friends that our country air and quiet will speedily restore you.”
“Thank you very much, sir,” said he, taking Cashel's hand. “We are both greatly indebted to your kindness, nor can we indeed ever hope to repay it.”
“Make him a receiver on the estate, then,” whispered Lady Janet in Miss Kennyfeck's ear, “and he'll soon pay himself.”
“Tell my Lord about our newly intended government, Mr. Cashel,” said Mrs. Kennyfeck; “I'm sure it will amuse him.” And Cashel, more in obedience to the request than from any conviction of its prudence, proceeded to obey. One word only, however, seemed to fix itself on the old man's memory.
“Queen! queen!” repeated he several times to himself. “Oh, indeed! You expect her Majesty will honor you with a visit, sir?”
Cashel endeavored to correct the misconception, but to no purpose; the feeble intelligence could not relinquish its grasp so easily, and he went on in a low muttering tone,—
“Lady Kilgoff is the only peeress here, sir, remember that; you should speak to her about it, Mr. Cashel.”
“I hope we are soon to have the pleasure of seeing Lady Kilgoff, my Lord,” whispered Cashel, half to concur with, half to turn the course of conversation.
“She will be here presently,” said he, somewhat stiffly, as if some unpleasant recollection was passing through his mind; and Cashel turned away to speak with the others, who eagerly awaited to resume the interrupted conversation.
“Your plan, Mr. Cashel; we are dying to hear it,” cried one.