It took some trouble to rouse him, and even when awakened he was for a time oblivious of his surroundings. At last, dimly defining the figure of Peebles, he took him for Blake, and rising with a sort of paralytic alertness, bade the old man stand upon his defence. Peebles, from a safe distance, proclaimed his identity; thereupon the lawyer, relinquishing his pugnacious ardour, wept copiously, and would have embraced him.
‘Gang hame—gang hame, now!’ said Peebles, repulsing him; thereupon Mr. Feagus’s tears ran faster. ‘My lord will send for ye if he should hae need o’ ye.’
‘You’ll come and have a drink with me, just for the sake of old times, Mr. Peebles?’ said Feagus.
‘Ye’ve had drink enough,’ said Peebles; ‘gang hame!’ and bundled him through the French window opening on the lawn. Finding himself in the open air, Feagus made straight by instinct for the high road. Peebles stood at the window watching him tacking and reeling along the path until he had passed out of sight, and was about to return and close the window, when he heard a voice hailing him—
‘Misther Paybles! Misther Paybles!’ Peering into the darkness, he made out a dim form approaching him.
‘Who is it?’ he asked.
‘’Tis me, sure—Larry.’
Peebles recognised the lad, a henchman of Desmond’s, a village loafer, generally to be found in the company either of the Squireen or of Lady Dulcie’s maid, Rosie.
‘Weel, Larry! What hae ye there?’
‘’Tis a letther!’ panted Larry.