The dinner passed as all dinners usually do. They hobnobbed, of course, and indulged in that kind of promiscuous conversation which cannot well be reported. From a feeling of respect to Helen, no allusion was made either to the burning of Reilly's property or to Reilly personally. The only person who had any difficulty in avoiding the subject was the old squire himself, who more than once found the topic upon his lips, but with a kind of short cough he gulped it down, and got rid of it for the time. In what manner he might treat the act itself was a matter which excited a good deal of speculation in the minds of those who were present. He was known to be a man who, if the whim seized him to look upon it as a cowardly and vindictive proceeding, would by no means scruple to express his opinions strongly against it; whilst, on the other hand, if he measured it in connection with his daughter's forbidden attachment to Reilly, he would, of course, as vehemently express his approbation of the outrage. Indeed, they were induced to conclude that this latter view of it was that which he was most likely to take, in consequence of the following proposal, which, from any other man, would have been an extraordinary one:
“Come, ladies, before you leave us we must have one toast; and I shall give it in order to ascertain whether we have any fair traitresses among us, or any who are secretly attached to Popery or Papists.”
The proposal was a cruel one, but the squire was so utterly destitute of consideration or delicacy of feeling that we do not think he ever once reflected upon the painful position in which it placed his daughter.
“Come,” he proceeded, “here is prosperity to Captain Smellpriest and priest-hunting!”*
* We have been charged by an able and accomplished writer
with an incapacity of describing, with truth, any state of
Irish society above that of our peasantry; and the toast
proposed by the eccentric old squire is, we presume, the
chief ground upon which this charge is rested. We are,
however, just as well aware as our critic, that to propose
toasts before the female portion of the company leave the
dinner-table, is altogether at variance with the usages of
polite society. But we really thought we had guarded our
readers against any such, inference of our own ignorance by
the character which we had drawn of the squire, as well as
by the words with which the toast is introduced—where we
said, “from any other man would have been an extraordinary
one.” I may also refer to Mrs. Brown's reply.
“As a Christian minister,” replied Mr. Brown, “and an enemy to persecution in every sense, but especially to that which would punish any man for the great principle which we ourselves claim—the rights of conscience—I decline to drink the toast;” and he turned down his glass.
“And I,” said Mr. Hastings, “as a Protestant and a Christian, refuse it on the same principles;” and he also turned down his glass.
“But you forget, gentlemen,” proceeded the squire, “that I addressed myself principally to the ladies.”
“But you know, sir,” replied Mrs. Brown, with a smile, “that it is quite unusual and out of character for ladies to drink toasts at all, especially those which involve religious or political opinions. These, I am sure, you know too well, Mr. Folliard, are matters with which ladies have, and ought to have, nothing to do. I also, therefore, on behalf of our sex, decline to drink the toast; and I trust that every lady who respects herself will turn down her glass as I do.”
Mrs. Hastings and Helen immediately followed her example, whilst at the same time poor Helen's cheeks and neck were scarlet.