'The dying swan his fun'ral song doth sing.'
Shortly after this the very learned and accomplished scholar was drowned with part of his family in the river Lemit, in the year 1667. The due application of this celebrated line, and the analogy of the water-bird fore-telling the time and manner of his death—hem!
DOSS MOI, TANE STIGMEN!
Yes, doubtless, there is much grave matter for deep reflection in this well-authenticated event."
Lord Glandarah prepared to yield his contribution to the strange topic under discussion. His Lordship had resided nearly all his life upon the continent; he was a Roman Catholic, and this, it was believed, was the disposing reason for his living abroad. He spoke broken English so like a foreigner, that he might have been almost mistaken for one, as has been already observed in a previous chapter. "Gad save my soul, my Lady Duchess, I do remember one of a very remarkable occurrence that happened some few years ago when I was travelling through Normandy. My Lord Roscommon, being then a boy of ten years of age, had preternatural intelligence of his father's death. Gad save my soul, it is the very most extraordinary circumstance to be sure! Your Grace must know that it happened at Caen: one day his Lordship was, as it were, madly extravagant in playing, leaping, getting over the tables, and playing, Gad save my soul! many other wild gambols. He was, sans doubté, wont to be sober, staid, lad enough. Those who saw him exclaimed, 'heaven grant this bodes no ill-luck to him!' In the heat of this extravagant fit he suddenly cried out, 'My father is dead!' And assuremént, Gad save my soul! a fortnight after accounts arrived from Ireland that the Earl of Roscommon was dead! This account was told me, Gad save my soul, by Mr. Knolles, who had been his governor, and at that time with him. And, Gad save my soul! I have often heard my Lord Roscommon's relations affirm this account to be true. Now, Gad save my soul! could any thing be more extraordinary? Sans doute c'est impossible!"
The hour was indeed very late; and the guests arose, and making due obeisance, withdrew. Adelaide, according to the good old fashion, embraced her parents, and retired to her chamber. But she had no sooner lain down to rest than she heartily repented of what she had done. The tempest continued with unabated rage; so much so indeed that the guests departed not from the Castle, but there found a safe retreat from "the pelting of the pitiless storm." The storm still continued to increase; the roaring waves of the Atlantic thundered against the shore, and burst upon the firm foundations of Tyrconnel Castle.
Adelaide's chamber was ever and anon illuminated with brilliant flashes of vivid lightning; and often did she wish the mysterious deed undone!
————"Oh, Between the acting of a dreadful thing And the first motion, all the interim is Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream!"
But what Adelaide saw upon that awful night ever remained untold.—She could never be prevailed upon to divulge the tremendous and frightful circumstances of that eventful night. The next morning, as it afterwards appeared, she complained of being very unwell, and kept her bed for some days. The blame was very discreetly thrown upon her having eaten too many nuts—having danced too much; and, moreover, supper having disagreed with her; besides a variety of et cetera explanations. It was a long period before Adelaide resumed her usual serenity and gaiety of temper; and whenever her friends or acquaintance would interrogate her upon the adventures of that memorable night, she would assume much reserve, and seemed displeased: this the only occasion, it was by all remarked, that she had ever been observed to have appeared displeased since they first had the happiness to be acquainted with her.