Chapter V

Well, the morn, be the best o’ good luck, Kate an’ I got the chance to slip out,
An’ away wid us off to the church, where the folk was all standin’ about,
Tho’ it wanted an hour to the time; an’ we squeezed to a sate at the door,
That was thrailed round most tasty wid wrathes that they’d put up the evenin’ before.
An’ it’s there we’d the greatest divarsion beholdin’, for afther a while,
All the guests was arrivin’ an’ roostlin’ in velvets an’ silks up the aisle,
Every wan lookin’ finer than t’other, wid sthramers an’ feathers an’ lace--
But the sorra a sign o’ the bridegroom was seen comin’ nigh to the place.
That was sthrange now; an’ folk did be sayin’ they wondhered what kep’ him, an’ thin
It seemed Quality’s selves got onaisy, for ye’d see the grand bonnits begin
Niddle-noddin’ together to whisper; an’ wan o’ the gintlemen’d quit,
Slippin’ out be the little side door, an’ look down the sthraight road for a bit,
An’ come back, blinkin’ out o’ the sun, wid a head-shake, for nothin’ he’d spied;
Till at last, in the heighth o’ their throuble, in landed Miss Honor--the bride.

VI

Och, an’ she was a bride! Not a sowl but was wishin’ good luck to her groom.
All in white, like a branch o’ wild pear, when ye scarce see the stem for the bloom,
An’ her dark hair just glintin’ wid glames, like the bird’s wing that sthrakes off the dew--
Och, a beauty complate, from the crown of her head to the point of her shoe.
Wid her hand on Sir Maurice’s arm, an’ he lookin’ as proud as ye plase,
An’ eight iligant bridesmaids behind her, each pair dhressed as like as two pase,
Wid their booquees o’ flowers like big stars in a thrimble o’ fern laves; ye’d say
Be the scint they’d dhropped straight out of Heaven; I remember the smell to this day.

VII

But, next minute, in afther thim stepped a sthrange gintleman none of us knew,
In a terrible takin’, an’ pantin’ as if ’twas a bellers he blew;
Wid a yallerish slip in his hand o’ the sort they’ve for messages tuk
Off the tiligrumph wires, an’ he ups to where Quality stared at him, sthruck
Of a heap like; and somethin’ he sez, that I couldn’t exactually hear,
But a somethin’ the others weren’t wishful Miss Honor should guess, that was clear,
For they all wint hush-hushin’; however, I’m thinkin’ she heard what he said,
And I saw her take hold o’ the paper, an’ whatever was in it she read.

VIII

I misdoubt what’s the thruth o’ the story. Some said all the while he’d a wife
In the States unbeknownst, that was somehow found out, so he’d run for his life;
An’ some said he was coortin’ a Marquis’s daughther in England instead;
But some said it was nought on’y just a fantigue he’d tuk into his head.
But whatever the raison might be, an’ whatever had happint amiss,
The end of it was, he was never set eyes on from that day to this.