CHAPTER XX
From the gargoyled keep which the cultured enthusiasm of Eleanor and thepurse of her father had recently erected at Lincoln Lodge, the brotherand sister looked over a bend of the river, half a mile of valley road,a wave of forest country, and the greater billows of the bare hillsidestowering beyond. But out of all this prospect it was only upon thestretch of road that their eyes were bent.
"Surely one should see their carriage soon!" exclaimed Eleanor.
"Seems to me," said her brother, "that you're sitting something like acat on the pounce for this Tulliwuddle fellow. Why, Eleanor, I neversaw you so excited since the first duke came along. I thought that hadpassed right off."
"Oh, Ri, I was reading 'Waverley' again last night, and somehow I feltthe top of the keep was the only place to watch for a chief!"
"Why, you don't expect him to be different from other people?"
"Ri! I tell you I'll cry if he looks like any one I've ever seen before!Don't you remember the Count said he moved like a pine in his nativeforests?"
"He won't make much headway like that," said Ri incisively. "I'd soonerhe moved like something more spry than a tree. I guess that Count wastalking through his hat."
But his sister was not to be argued out of her exalted mood by suchprosaic reasoning. She exclaimed at his sluggish imagination, reiteratedher faith in the insinuating count's assurances, and was only withheldfrom sending her brother down for a spy-glass by the reflection that shecould not remember reading of its employment by any maiden in analogouscircumstances.
It was at this auspicious moment, when the heart of the expectantheiress was inflamed with romantic fancies and excited with the suspenseof waiting, and before it had time to cool through any undue delay, thata little cloud of dust first caught her straining eyes.
"He comes at last!" she cried.
At the same instant the faint strains of the pibroch were gently waftedto her embattled tower.
"He is bringing his piper! Oh, what a duck he is!"
"Seems to me he is bringing a dozen of them," observed Ri.
"And look, Ri! The sun is glinting upon steel! Claymores, Ri! oh, howheavenly! There must be fifty men! And they are still coming! I dobelieve he has brought the whole clan!"
Too petrified with delight to utter another exclamation, she watched inbreathless silence the approach of a procession more formidable thanhad ever escorted a Tulliwuddle since the year of Culloden. As they drewnearer, her ardent gaze easily distinguished a stalwart figure in plaidand kilt, armed to the teeth with target and claymore, marching with astately stride fully ten paces before his retinue.
"The chief!" she murmured.
Now indeed she saw there was no cause to mourn, for any one at allresembling the Baron von Blitzenberg as he appeared at that moment shehad certainly never met before. Intoxicated with his finery and with theterrific peals of melody behind him, he pranced rather than walked up tothe portals of Lincoln Lodge, and there, to the amazement and admirationalike of his clansmen and his expectant host, he burst forth into thefollowing Celtic fragment, translated into English for the occasion byhis assiduous friend from a hitherto undiscovered manuscript of Ossian:
"I am ze chieftain, Nursed in ze mountains, Behold me, Mac--ig--ig--ig ish!
(Yet the Count had written this word very distinctly.)
"Oich for ze claymore! Hoch for ze philabeg! Sons of ze red deers, Children of eagles, I will supply you Mit Sassenach carcases!"
At this point came a momentary lull, the chieftain's eyes rollingbloodthirstily, but the rhapsody having apparently become congestedwithin his fiery heart. His audience, however, were not given time torecover their senses, before a striking-looking individual, adorned withtartan trews and a feathered hat, in whom all were pleased to recognizeCount Bunker, whispered briefly in his lordship's ear, and like a riverin spate he foamed on:
"Donald and Ronald Avake from your slumbers! Maiden so lovely, Smile mit your bright eyes! Ze heather is blooming! Ze vild cat is growling! Hech Dummeldirroch! Behold Tollyvoddle, Ze Lord of ze Mountains!"
Hardly had the reverberations of the chieftain's voice died away, whenthe Count, uttering a series of presumably Gaelic cries, advanced withthe most dramatic air, and threw his broad-sword upon the ground. TheBaron laid his across it, the pipes struck up a less formidable, butif anything more exciting air, and the two noblemen, springingsimultaneously from the ground, began what the Count confidently trustedtheir American hosts would accept as the national sworddance.
This lasted for some considerable time, and gave the Count anopportunity of testifying his remarkable agility and the Baron ofdisplaying the greater part of his generously proportioned limbs, whilethe lung power of both became from that moment proverbial in the glen.
At the conclusion of this ceremony the chieftain, crimson, breathless,and radiant, a sight for gods and ladies, advanced to greet his host.
"Very happy to see you, Lord Tulliwuddle," said Mr. Maddison. "Allowme to offer you my very sincere congratulations on your exceedinglyinteresting exhibition. Welcome to Lincoln Lodge, your lordship! Mydaughter--my son."
Eleanor, almost as flushed as the Baron by her headlong rush from thekeep at the conclusion of the sword-dance, threw him such a smile asnone of her admirers had ever enjoyed before; while he, incapable ofspeech beyond a gasped "Ach!" bowed so low that the Count had gentlyto adjust his kilt. Then followed the approach of the Gallosh family,attired in costumes of Harris tweed and tartan selected and arrangedunder the artistic eye of Count Bunker, and escorted, to their hugedelight, by six picked clansmen. Their formal presentation having beencompleted by a last skirl on the bagpipes, the whole party moved inprocession to the banqueting-hall.
"A complete success, I flatter myself," thought Count Bunker, withexcusable complacency.
To the banquet itself it is scarcely possible for a mere mortalhistorian to pay a fitting tribute. Every rarity known to the gourmetthat telegraph could summon to the table in time was served in courseupon course. Even the sweetmeats in the little gold dishes cost on anaverage a dollar a bon-bon, while the wine was hardly less valuable thanliquid radium. Or at least such was the sworn information subsequentlysupplied by Count Bunker to the reporter of "The Torrydhulish Herald."
Eleanor was in her highest spirits. She sat between the Baron andMr. Gallosh, delighted with the honest pleasure and admiration of themerchant, and all the time becoming more satisfied with the demeanor andconversation of the chief. In fact, the only disappointment she felt wasconnected with the appearance of Miss Gallosh. Much as she had desired aconfidante, she had never demanded one so remarkably beautiful, and shecould not but feel that a very much plainer friend would have served herpurpose quite as well--and indeed better. Once or twice she intercepteda glance passing between this superfluously handsome lady and theprincipal guest, until at last it occurred to her as a strange andunseemly thing that Lord Tulliwuddle should be paying so long a visitto his shooting tenants. Eva, on her part, felt a curiously similarsensation. These American gentlemen were as pleasant as report hadpainted them, but she now discovered an odd antipathy to American women,or at least to their unabashed method of making themselves agreeableto noblemen. It confirmed, indeed, the worst reports she had heardconcerning the way in which they raided the British marriage market.
Being placed beside one of these lovely girls and opposite theother, the Baron, one would think, would be in the highest state ofcontentment; but though still flushed with his triumphant caperings overthe broadswords, and exhibiting a graciousness that charmed his hosts,he struck his observant friend as looking a trifle disturbed at soul.He would furtively glance across the table and then as furtively throwa sidelong look at his neighbor, and each time he appeared to grow morethoughtful. And yet he did not look precisely unhappy either. Infact, there was a gleam in his eye during each of these glances whichsuggested that both fell upon
something he approved of.
The after-luncheon procedure had been carefully arranged between thetwo adventurers. The Count was to keep by the Baron's side, and, thussupported, negotiations were to be delicately opened. Accordingly, whenthe party rose, the Count whispered a word in Mr. Maddison's ear. Themillionaire answered with a grave, shrewd look, and his daughter, as ifperfectly grasping the situation, led the Galloshes out to inspect thenew fir forest. And then the two noblemen and the two Dariuses faced oneanother over their cigars.
Count Bunker Page 20