My Lords of Strogue, Vol. 2 (of 3): A Chronicle of Ireland, from the Convention to the UnionWingfield, Lewis
History
My Lords of Strogue, Vol. 2 (of 3): A Chronicle of Ireland, from the Convention to the Union
Wingfield, Lewis
Historical fiction; Ireland -- History -- 18th century -- Fiction
She showed the officers into the dining-parlour; produced for them a
few bottles of undeniable Lafitte, bidding Norah act Hebe (who
objected not at all), and ordering Jug to distribute jorums of whisky
among the common men upon the lawn. It soon became an orgie. One man
said something rude to Jug about her erring Biddy with the carroty
poll, which sent the hag into a fury. If Biddy was sliding from the
straight path, the sin must lie on her head, not her mother's. They
were spalpeens, she yelled, who would rot some time--the sooner the
better. When should come Judgment-day they would not awake, ne'er a
recreant sowl of them, having long ago been absorbed by lean pigs that
were their betters. One man bade her keep a civil tongue, or it would
be the worse for her. A riot ensued, which the mistress of the
dwelling hurried forth to quell. Before the officers could interfere,
Madam Gillin had received a scratch upon her arm, which she exhibited
in the moonlight, swearing she was 'kilt entirely,' with an
accompaniment of screams from Norah, who was really terrified. The
judges should hear of the outrage--my lords Clonmell and Carleton--she
vociferated, and the rapscallions should be drummed out of the
regiment for insulting lone women who had friends among the great. The
party stole away, ashamed of the din, but Madam Gillin made capital of
the incident. Bandaging her arm in bloody linen, she drove into the
capital, laid a complaint there, and made believe to see a surgeon.
Every day for many days she drove into town and back again, closely
draped in shawls, with ensanguined bandages exposed. Long ago she
perceived that if Terence was to consent to continued imprisonment,
his mind must be set at rest by communication with the Directory. He
chafed so in his cage that she dreaded sometimes whether he might not
escape in the night while the kindly gaoleress slept. Therefore,
knowing what a hue-and-cry there was after him--or rather after the
unlucky thousand pounds reward--she became in some sort a conspirator
herself, going daily to and fro to see her doctor, who was no other
than one of the new delegates, and who thus was enabled to commune
with the lordling in spite of Sirr and his battalion of watchers.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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