Forthwith the banquet begins and the air hums with talk and laughter
punctuated by the popping of corks; waiters hurry to and fro, dishes
come and dishes vanish, and ever the laughter grows, and the buzz of
talk swells louder.
And Barnabas? Himself "the glass of fashion and the mould of form,"
in very truth "the observed of all observers," surely to-night he
should be happy! For the soaring pinions of youth have borne him up
and up at last, into the empyrean, far, far above the commonplace;
the "Coursing Hound," with its faded sign and weatherbeaten gables,
has been lost to view long and long ago (if it ever really existed),
and to-night he stands above the clouds, his foot upon the topmost
pinnacle; and surely man can attain no higher, for to-night he feasts
with princes.
Thus Barnabas sits among the glare and glitter of it all, smiling at
one, bowing to another, speaking with all by turns, and wondering in
his heart--if there is yet any letter from Hawkhurst. And now the
hurrying tread of waiters ceases, the ring and clatter of glass and
silver is hushed, the hum of talk and laughter dies away, and a
mottle-faced gentleman rises, and, clutching himself by the
shirt-frill with one hand, and elevating a brimming glass in the
other, clears his throat, and holds forth in this wise:
"Gentlemen, I'm an Englishman, therefore I'm blunt,--deuced
blunt--damned blunt! Gentlemen, I desire to speak a word upon this
happy and memorable occasion, and my word is this: Being an
Englishman I very naturally admire pluck and daring--Mr.
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