“Nothing,” said the colonel; “nothing whatever. But we must hasten out to our cottage. I'll get a coolie to take your luggage to the railway station. We shall drive out. My dear Dolly, come down from yonder mountain height where you have gone on wings of heather. I'll take out the bouquet for you.”
“No,” said Daireen. “I'll not let any one carry it for me.”
And they all went out of the hotel to the carriage.
The maître d'hôtel, who had been listening to the speech of The Macnamara in wonder, and had been finally mystified by the Celtic language, hastened to the visitors' book in which The Macnamara had written his name; but this last step certainly did not tend to make everything clear, for in the book was written:
“Macnamara, Prince of the Isles, Chief of Innish-dermot and the Lakes, and King of Munster.”
“And with such a nose!” said the maître d'hôtel.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
Tis sweet and commendable in your nature,