While the reverend gentleman was taking his seat, spreading his napkin and addressing a word to each round the table, Furlong turned to Fanny Dawson, beside whom he was sitting (and who, by-the-bye, could not resist a fit of laughter on the occasion), and said with a bewildered look--
"Did he not addwess _Madame_ as Mistwess Egan?"
"Yeth," said Fanny, with admirable readiness; "but whithper." And as Furlong inclined his head towards her, she whispered in his ear, "You muthn't mind him--he's mad, poor man!--that is, a _little_ inthane--and thinks every lady is Mrs. Egan. An unhappy pathion, poor fellow!--but _quite harmleth_."
Furlong uttered a very prolonged "Oh!" at Fanny's answer to his inquiry, and looked sharply round the table, for there was an indefinable something in the conduct of every one at the moment of Mr. Bermingham's entrance that attracted his attention, and the name "Egan," and everybody's _fidgetiness_ (which is the only word I can apply), roused his suspicion. Fanny's answer only half satisfied him; and looking at Mrs. Egan, who could not conquer her confusion, he remarked "How _vewy_ wed Mistwess O'Gwady gwew!"
"Oh! thee can't help bluthing, poor soul! when he thays 'Egan' to her, and thinks her his _furth_ love."
"How _vewy_ widiculous to be sure," said Furlong.
"Haven't you innothent mad people thumtimes in England?" said Fanny.
"Oh _vewy_" said Furlong, "but this appea's to me so wema'kably stwange an abbewation."
"Oh," returned Fanny, with quickness, "I thuppose people go mad on their ruling pathion, and the ruling pathion of the Irish, you know, is love."
The conversation all this time was going on in other quarters, and Furlong heard Mr. Bermingham talking of his having preached last Sunday in his new church.
"Suwely," said he to Fanny, "they would not pe'mit an insane gle'gyman to pweach?"
"Oh," said Fanny, almost suffocating with laughter, "he only _thinkth_ he's a clergyman."
"Now you're only quithing me," said Fanny, looking with affected innocence in the face of the unfortunate young gentleman she had been quizzing most unmercifully the whole day.
"Oh, Miste' O'Gwady," said Furlong, "we saw them going to dwown a man to-day."
"Indeed!" said the Squire, reddening, as he saw Mr. Bermingham stare at his being called O'Grady; so, to cover the blot, and stop Furlong, he asked him to take wine.