All had
dined at an early hour, but a large side-board that stood
in one corner of the council room--always fitted up on
these occasions--was covered with vases containing wines,
liqueurs, juleps, and punches of various kinds--the latter
the work of the indefatigable son of Esculapius, and of
these the host and his guests partook freely, in
commemoration of the day. At the opposite end of the room
had been raised a sort of tribune for the orator of the
day, but as it was intended the address should be impromptu,
no name had been mentioned, nor could any one know, until
the moment when the majority of voices should select him
on whom the office was to devolve. In the fear entertained
by each that he should be the party selected, the glass,
to impart the necessary courage, was not spared. But he
who was not in the room, or of the number of those devoted
to the punch-bowl was the person chosen. As if by one
impulsive consent, Ronayne, who was seated in the inner
room, and discoursing of any thing but politics to his
betrothed, found himself loudly called upon--knew it
was in vain to object--and reluctantly rose in obedience
to the summons.
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