“Yis, darlint Judy, it’s the fayther av ye that’s pressin’ ye to this throbbin’ heart av him! It’s the fayther av ye, me foine Mike, that will make ye the lawful heir av the oldest name and richest estate in ould Ireland! Yis, I meant to have kept that same a secret till I had watched the natures av ye both for a wake or two, but me affections were too much for me.”
While he spoke he was kissing Judy, patting Mike on the shoulder or embracing them both and holding them together to his breast.
At last, quite overcome by his emotion, he sank down upon the top step and covered his face with his hands to hide the tears that might have seemed a reproach to the descendant of the warlike monarchs of Meath.
Mike and Judy raised him up with tender care and led him into the hall and thence into the drawing-room, while the old butler, without waiting orders, went and brought a tray with a decanter of brandy and a glass.
The O’Melaghlin saw the elixir of life and revived at the sight.
Meanwhile Ran returned to the barouche to conduct Stuart and Palma to the house.
“He made me and my wife swear by all the saints in Christendom that we would not betray his secret until he himself should give us leave, and lo! he has blurted it out himself,” laughed Stuart.
“Yes. He seems a very eccentric person, this unexpected father-in-law of mine. Yet I like what I have seen of him,” replied Ran.
“You will like him better. The longer you know him the more you will esteem him. And if you will consider the eccentricities of his fate and fortune, you will understand and forgive the eccentricities of his character,” replied Cleve.
And then they followed their host into the house and into the drawing-room, where they found The O’Melaghlin seated on a sofa between his son and daughter, with his left arm around Judy’s waist, and in his right hand a wineglass of brandy which he sipped at intervals, while Mike held the decanter ready to replenish the glass when necessary.