At this "His Majesty" wiped his eyes. Then he raised his bottle and took another long pull. Then he heaved a sigh.
"Arrah, ye rogue," said he to Harry, "ye've deludhered that poor gyerrul intoirely. She's yours out-an'-outno doubt av that; an' sure but it's dead bate an' heart-broke intoirely I'd be, so I would, if it wasn't for the widdy here, that's a frind in time av nade, an' has a heart that's worth its weight in goold sovereigns."
"His Majesty" now took another long, long pull at the black bottle.
"If it wasn't that I had that other noble heart til fall back on," said he, as he wiped his royal eyes with the back of his royal hand, "I'd be fairly broken-hearted, so I would. But I'll be loike Tim in the song:
"'Oh, a widdy she lived in Limerick town,
Not far from Shannon water,
An' Tim kept company wid her,
A coortin' av Biddy, her daughter.
But Micky M'Graw cut in between,
And run away wid Biddy.
"Begorra!" says Tim, "the daughter's gone,
So, faix, I'll take the widdy!"
The widdy!
Not Biddy!
The fond and faithful widdy!
Whooroor!'"
Singing this, the jovial monarch caught Mrs. Russell's hand in his, and proceeded to dance in a manner which was far more boisterous than dignified. Mrs. Russell, always fond and indulgent, lent herself to the royal whim, and danced much more vigorously than could have been expected from a person of her years. Katie clapped her hands in childish glee. The Carlists all applauded. The others looked puzzled. "His Majesty" finally concluded his little dance, after which Mrs. Russell clung to him in a languishing attitude, and looked like a caricature of each of those other younger ladies who were all clinging so fondly to their respective lovers. The sight of Mrs. Russell in that languishing attitude came home to the hearts and consciences of the younger ladies, who all relinquished their lovers' arms, and insisted on standing by themselves.
Brooke had listened thoughtfully to all that had thus far been said. The Carlist chief was a puzzle to him, but he saw that there was talk of holding to ransom, which to him had an ugly sound.
"Sir," said he, "are we to be kept prisoners in this tower?"
"This tower, is it?" said "His Majesty." "Begorra, I hope not. There's another tower a dale betther nor this. It's mesilf that 'ud be the proud man til let yez all go, an' yez 'ud all be prouder, I'll go bail; but in that case, shure to glory, I'd be a loser; but I hope to find yez comfortable quarthers in a foine stone house not a thousand moiles from this. Ye'll all be as comfortable as ould Dinny M'Divitt in the song:
"'In a beautiful palace av stone
Resoided ould Diuny M'Divitt;
He wore a most beautiful ring
That were filed round his wrist wid a rivet.
'Twas the judge, shure, that sintinced him there,
An' there all the boys wint til view him,
For the jury considhered him dull
At discernin' twixt "mayum" and "chuum."
So fill up for the toast an' I'll give it:
Here's a health to bowld Dinny M'Divitt!'"