“My sentiments to a hair’s breadth,” cried Major O’Teague. “I declare to hivins there’s some Irish exiles that have never stirred out of Ireland! But they’re not the worst. Ireland has harboured many snakes in her bosom from time to time, but the bitterest cup of them all has been the one that burst into flower on a foreign shore, and, having feathered its nest, crawled back to the old country to heap coals of fire upon the head of her betrayers.”
“The metamorphoses of the Irish snake—which I believed did not exist—appear to have been numerous and confusing; but surely you will take a glass of wine now, major?” said Mr. Long. “Pray pass Major O’Teague the decanter, Mr. Sheridan.”
Dick obeyed, and Major O’Teague’s face, which one might have expected to brighten, became unusually and, as it seemed, unnecessarily solemn. He protested that he had no need for any refreshment—that so far from regarding as irksome the duty which he had just discharged, he considered it one of the greatest pleasures in life to bring a challenge to a gentleman of Mr. Long’s position. He only accepted the hospitality of Mr. Long lest he should be accused of being a curmudgeon if he refused.
“Gentlemen,” he cried, raising his glass, “I drink to your very good health and to our better acquaintance. I have been more or less intimately concerned in the death of fourteen gentlemen, but there’s not one of them that won’t say to-day, if y’ask him, that he was killed in the most gentlemanly way, and in a style suitable to his position. If you have anything to complain of on this score, Mr. Long, my name is not O’Teague. Here’s long life to you, sir.”
“Without prejudice to the longevity of your friend Captain Mathews, I suppose?” said Mr. Long.
“We’ll drink to him later on, sir. The night’s young yet,” said Major O’Teague, with a wink that had a good deal of slyness about it.
CHAPTER XXVII
Major O’Teague did not stay late. He apologised for hurrying away from such excellent company; but the fact was that he had, in a thoughtless hour, accepted an invitation to supper from a lady who was as beautiful as she was virtuous—perhaps even more so. He hoped that Mr. Long would pardon the precipitancy of his flight, and not attribute it to any churlishness on his part.