Kilgorman: A Story of Ireland in 1798Reed, Talbot Baines
History
Kilgorman: A Story of Ireland in 1798
Reed, Talbot Baines
France -- History -- Revolution, 1789-1799 -- Juvenile fiction; Ireland -- Juvenile fiction
It was a sad introduction, that of these delicate ladies to the squalid
apartments of their arrested kinsfolk. But they kept up bravely; only
when the woman departed with her first five francs in her hand, they
fell on the little shabby sofa and broke into tears.
But miserable as we were, we were at least safe for a while; and as the
weeks followed one another--terrible weeks for Paris--we grew not only
more reconciled to our lot, but sometimes almost happy.
We gave ourselves the name of Regnier, and in a little time our sour
landlady fulfilled her promise of finding work for the ladies' needles.
As for me, I lit on occupation close by, with a man who let horses for
hire, and here once more I found myself engaged in the old familiar
occupation of the Knockowen days. The ladies rarely ventured out, and
when they did it was usually after dark, and always under my escort.
Somehow or other our common lot, the common garb we wore, and the common
dependence we felt on one another, made our make-believe little family
into something very like a real one. When the day's work was done, and
the candle was lit and the log thrown on the fire, it was hard not to
forget that I was after all only a poor serving-man to these two ladies.
They were so grateful and gentle to me, and my little lady's eyes, when
sometimes they met mine, were wont to light up so brightly, that, had I
been less strict with myself, I should have been--tempted, many a time,
to presume on all this kindness, and give myself the airs and privileges
of an equal. But Heaven kept me in mind of what was due to her; and
though I loved her secretly, she was always my little mistress when we
were together.
I was not long in hearing, among other things, the news of what had
happened at Knockowen since I left. When my overturned boat had drifted
ashore, they all set me down as dead, some with regret, some with
indifference, some with relief.
Among the latter, I guessed, was his honour, who never took kindly to
me, and bestowed more dislike on me, I always thought, than my
importance deserved. However, my absence did not make much difference.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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