Woman Who Gave Birth to Rabbits - Donoghue [9]
"Half the price of the taxed stuff," commented Knox, "and besides, stolen water is sweetest, as the proverb tells us."
"Mayo poteen, now, is nearly as good as the Donegal, which is agreed to be the best, especially if it's from Inishowen," the attorney told the captain.
"I beg to differ. Mayo's better by far," said the parson hotly.
"Maybe our guest will take a dram of both, " suggested Knox.
"Parliament whiskey and Mayo poteen, or Inishowen?" demanded the attorney.
"All three, for a true comparison," decided Knox.
The first hit of poteen shook the young captain like a dog. "My God," he coughed. "I heard the rebels were mad with drink, by the time the French landed; was it this stuff they were on?"
"Not at all," said Knox in outrage; "it was Scotch whiskey they'd looted from some squire's cellar. Poisonous stuff!"
The second toast was to the King, and the third to the Union; the captain could hardly refuse. He couldn't tell the Inishowen from the Mayo poteen, no matter how many times his host made him try; he lacked an Irishman's palate. When the young man attempted to pass on the bottle, next time around, the parson took offence. "Didn't Jesus himself drink wine with his friends?"
"No sober man's long welcome in Ireland. Don't tell us you're on milk and tar-water, for your health!" said the attorney in amusement.
"He is not," said Knox, topping the visitor's glass up; "nary a bit of harm a drop of the cup that cheers will do him."
An hour later the captain felt like the conqueror of the world. The room swam around him. He saw kindness on every man's face. Miss Knox's white throat seemed to him to be like a swan's. She sipped a small glass of poteen, and kept her eyes on the table. He felt he knew the shadowy thoughts of her melancholic mind, the secret motions of her bosom.
"I think the lady likes our young Englishman," said the attorney with a grin.
"I think she does! There are certain unmistakable signs, to a trained medical eye. And sure what lady wouldn't," said Knox, slapping the captain on the nearest shoulder. "The young are drawn to each other, as natural as magnets."
The parson proposed a toast to young love.
The attorney followed it up with a toast to young lovers, naming no names, wink wink.
"How well I remember my own dear departed wife, your aunt," said Knox, with a nod in his niece's direction, "on the day I met her, and her barely home from school in Dublin. Ah, marriage," he extemporised, "that shelter from every storm, that medicine for every ill, that cornucopia of delights!"
"I tell you this much," the attorney breathed heavily in the captain's ear, "if you were to make your proposals to young Miss Knox there, this very night, I don't think you'd be shown the door!"
The captain let out a shriek of laughter. "Do you think not?" he whispered back. "I mean, do you think so?"
The attorney threw his arm round the visitor. "Hem, hem," he said loudly, chiming his fork against his glass. "Our young visitor has something to say."
In the long silence, the captain felt panic bubble up in his head. He threw Miss Knox a wild glance. "Oh no," he stuttered, "I was just saying, I mean..."
"What the young gentleman in question was wondering," said the attorney, "was whether our generous host would ever consider ... surrendering his lovely niece?"
Knox threw up his hands in delight. The woman shot to her feet, but her uncle had a hold of her wrist. He pulled her down again, bent over her as if in an embrace, whispered fondly in her ear for some time.
The captain watched, frozen. He didn't know what he hoped or dreaded. His vision was blurred; his head was a burning bush.
"Fear not, my boy," hissed the parson.
When Knox sat down again, his niece's face was very still. He spoke with a calm grin. "In answer to your question, my dear young sir, I believe I'll follow modern custom and let the lady answer for herself."
She