NOEL! NOEL!
Captain Langrishe arrived only just in time for lunch on the Christmas
Day. By the time he had been shown his room and had deposited his bag
and returned to the drawing-room it was time for the luncheon-bell.
The meeting between Nelly and himself would have seemed to outsiders a
cold one. To be sure, it took place under the General's eye. One might
have supposed that the General would have absented himself from that
lovers' meeting, but as a matter of fact he did not. Nelly's flush, the
shy, burning look which Langrishe sent her from his dark eyes, were
enough for the two principals. For the rest, all seemed to be of the
most ordinary. No one could have supposed that for the two persons
mainly concerned this was the most wonderful Christmas Day there ever
had been since the beginning.
During lunch Langrishe talked mainly to the General. They had plenty to
talk about. The General found it necessary to apologise to Nelly for
"talking shop," an apology which was tendered in a whimsical spirit and
received in the same. Pat, waiting at table, quite forgot that he was
Sir Denis Drummond's manservant, listening to the stirring tale; and was
once again Corporal Murphy, back in "th' ould rig'mint." In fact, he
once almost forgot himself so far as to put in an eager comment, but
fortunately pulled himself up in time. He mentioned afterwards to
Bridget that the Captain's talk had nearly brought him to the point of
"joinin'" again. "Only that I remembered that at last you'd consinted to
my spakin' to Sir Denis I couldn't have held myself in, Bridget, my
jewel," he said. "But the thought of gettin' kilt before ever I'd made
you Mrs. Murphy was too much for me."
There was considerable excitement in the servants' hall over Captain
Langrishe's presence. Pat, of course, knew all about him since he
belonged to "th' ould rig'mint"; but it was through Bridget's feminine
perspicacity that it broke on the amazed couple that it was for him Miss
Nelly had been breaking her heart all the time.
"It 'ud do you good," said Pat, "to see the way she carries her little
sojer's jacket, and the holly berries on her pretty head like a crown."
To be sure, the younger ones of the servants' hall were talking too, and
they even approached Pat, who outside the duties of his office was not
awesome, for the satisfaction of their curiosity.
"Just wait," said Pat oracularly, "an' ye'll see what ye'll see."
The speech meant nothing to Pat's own mind except that they would be all
wiser later on. However, it went nearer the mark than he had intended.
The afternoon of Christmas Day was always the occasion for a Christmas
Tree. Everyone in the house was remembered in the distribution of
presents, even the dogs. The tree was set up in the servants' hall and
the General had never omitted to distribute the presents himself in all
the years they had been at Sherwood Square. He had mentioned the tree to
Langrishe at lunch, apologising for asking his assistance at so homely
an occasion. His eye twinkled as he said it; and rather to Nelly's
bewilderment the young man blushed like a girl. Apparently he had heard
of the Christmas Tree before, for he made no comment.
After lunch the lovers were a little while alone. Sir Denis had his
secrecies about the Tree, gifts which had to go on at the last moment
and to be placed there by himself. When he came back to the drawing-room
he was aware from the looks of the young couple that everything had been
satisfactorily arranged between them. He looked as cheerful himself as
anyone could desire. While he put those last touches to the Tree he had
been thinking how good it was that he was going to have his children to
himself, no troublesome Dowager with her claims and exactions to come
between them. For a long time to come, anyhow, Langrishe must be off
active service; and they would all be together in the kind, spacious old
house. And presently there would be Nelly's children. Please God he
would live to deck the Tree for the delight of Nelly's children! It was
the thought of the golden heads of the little lads and lasses yet to be
dancing about the Tree that brought the dimness to his eyes, the look of
happy dreams to his face.
The Tree was far from being a perfunctory, haphazard affair. Everything
had been thought out and planned beforehand. The servants sat in a
circle with eager, expectant faces. In front of them was a circle of
dogs. The dogs' presents were not much of a novelty. A new collar for
one, a new basket for another, a medal for the oldest of the dogs; the
possible gifts were very soon exhausted, but they made hilarity, and the
dogs barked as they received their gifts as though they understood and
enjoyed it all, as no doubt they did.
There was a delightful sensation for the servants' hall when the gold
watch which had been hanging near the top of the tree was handed down,
and its inscription proved to be: "To Bridget Burke, on the occasion of
her marriage to Patrick Murphy, with the affection and esteem of the
master and Miss Nelly." The servants' hall broke into cheers. They had
all known that there was something between Bridget and Pat, but the
thing had hung fire so long that it might well have hung fire for ever.
Pat's present was a ten-pound note for the honeymoon. Mr. and Mrs.
Murphy were to have a fortnight together after their marriage in some
seaside place, before settling down to their old duties. Sir Denis had
made Pat the offer of a cottage in the country, but this Pat had
refused, to his master's great relief. "Sure, what would you do without
me?" he said. "I was thinking the same myself," responded the General.
The General had it in his mind that presently, when those children came,
it might be necessary to give up Sherwood Square and live in the country
for their sakes. A little place in Ireland now, the General thought,
where there was always plenty of sport and good-fellowship. However,
that might wait. But the thought was a sweet one, to be turned over in
the old man's mind.
Sometimes the present took odd shapes. There was a young housemaid whose
eyes were ringed about with black circles, eyes pale with much weeping.
Her mother was ill among the Essex marshes, and the only chance for her
life, said the doctors, was to get her away to a mild, bracing place for
some months. Bournemouth would do very well. Bournemouth? Why, Heaven
was much more accessible, it seemed, than Bournemouth for the poor
mother of many children.
"Emma Brooks," said the General. "I wonder what's in this envelope for
Emma Brooks."
Poor Emma came up, smiling a wavering smile that was on the edge of
tears. She took the envelope, peered within it, and then cried out, "Oh,
God bless you, sir!" It contained a letter of admission to a
convalescent home at Bournemouth for six months, and the money for the
expenses of getting there. "It's my mother's life, sir," cried Emma.
"You shall go home to-morrow, my girl, and take her there," said the
General. "I'll pay whatever is necessary."
At last the Tree was stripped of nearly everything but its candles and
its bright dingle-dangles. There was a little basket at the foot of the
Tree addressed to the General, which had been moving about in a peculiar
way during the proceedings, and had been a source of much fascinated
interest to the dogs. On its being opened a fat, waddling, brindle
bull-dog puppy sidled himself out of a warm bed, and made straight for
the General's feet. A puppy was something Sir Denis never could resist,
and though there were already several dogs at Sherwood Square, all
desperately jealous at the moment and being held in by the servants, he
discovered that he had wanted a brindled bull-dog all his life.
"But what is that," he asked, "up there at the top of the Tree? Why, I
was near forgetting it. Come here, Pat, you rascal, and hand it down to
me. It's a pretty, shining thing for my Nelly, as bright as her eyes.
Hand it down to me, Pat. I want to put it on her pretty neck."
The gift was a beautiful flexible snake of opals in gold, with diamonds
for its eyes and its forked tongue, such a jewel as the heart of woman
could not resist. The General himself clasped the ornament on Nelly's
neck, where it lay emitting soft fires of milky rose and emerald.
There was a little pause. The Tree seemed to be finished. The women-folk
began to clear their throats for the _Adeste Fideles_ with which the
festivity concluded. Afterwards there was to be a glass of champagne all
round.
The pause, however, was a device of the General's to give more effect to
what was to follow. Captain Langrishe had been standing apart, his shy
and modest air commending him the more to the women who thought him so
handsome and the men who knew him for heroic; for had not Pat sung his
praises? And to be sure, the women's hearts swelled at beholding a hero
taking part in their own particular festivity of the year, a hero that
is to say with his heroism brand-new upon him and from the outside
world, so to speak. They were so accustomed to a hero for a master all
the year round, that in that particular connection they hardly thought
upon him.
"I believe, after all," said Sir Denis, as though he were talking to
children--it was his way with women and children and dependents and
animals--"I believe there's something for my girl which she'll think
more of than anything else. It's hidden just down here at the foot of
the Tree, and might very easily be over-looked if one didn't know
beforehand that it was there. Captain Langrishe, will you give this
little packet to my Nelly? It's your gift. She'll like it from you."
Langrishe came forward, looking radiantly happy and handsome, and
wearing withal that look of becoming shyness. He extracted from
somewhere near the roots of the Tree a white paper-covered packet, very
tiny and tied with blue ribbon, which he undid with quick, nervous
fingers. When he had laid the covering aside it revealed itself as a
little ring-case. Opening it, he took out a beautiful old-fashioned
ring, a large pearl surrounded by diamonds. He held it for a second
between his fingers; and turning round he went to Nelly's side and
taking her hand lifted it to his lips. Then he slipped the ring on to
her third finger.
"My dear friends," said the General in an agitated voice, "I am very
happy to announce to you the engagement of my daughter to Captain
Langrishe."
At that the cheering broke out, led by Pat. As the dogs joined in, and
even the brindle puppy added his shrill note, there was the happiest,
merriest uproar lasting over several minutes, during which the General
stood, looking proudly from the shy and smiling lovers to those
dependants whom he had really made his friends.
And at last, when the pause came, the General spoke:
"And now, my friends," he said, "to show that God is not forgotten in
our happiness and in our grateful hearts, we will sing the _Adeste
Fideles_."