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
Young Robert enthusiastically seconded his brother's motion, for his
instinctive dread of bloodshed impelled him to postpone the decisive
moment; and he was possessed, besides, with a strong belief in
Terence, whom he had known intimately during his sojourn at the
Priory. Russell and the others obstinately combated the point, urged
thereto by youthful jealousy and wounded self-esteem. True, none of
the council were of mature years; but to be lectured and prated at by
this boy Robert, who was yet a student in Alma Mater, was an indignity
which it behoved them to resent.
Doreen, who, after her noteworthy row upon the bay, threw aside the
appearance of apathy she had assumed, saw this new danger with
concern. Torn well-nigh to death already by factions of many kinds,
was Erin to sit by and see her last forlorn hope, her last bodyguard
of champions, scattered by the same curse? Miss Wolfe became seized by
a frenzy for galloping across country. Her horses were constantly
brought back to the stable with their coats turned, their flanks
heaving, their skins reeking with foam.
'No doubt the girl was crazed,' my lady averred, as constantly as she
marked the grooming of the animals from her bedroom window-seat. 'Why
could she not ride like a well-brought-up young person in the green
alleys of the Ph[oe]nix, or amble on the mall of Stephen's Green?'
My lady did not know that Doreen met separately, at certain cottages,
the different members of the Directory; that she prayed and exhorted
each one, as though he were alone to blame, to wisdom and a sacrifice
of paltry vanity; and that she came away from each interview with such
a dread of impending failure--a distrust of these budding
generalissimos--that it required the most reckless gallops, with a
dangerous fence or two _en route_, to calm her nerves sufficiently to
meet my lady's scrutiny with the accustomed mask of composure on her
face.
At the Abbey she had little to complain of now, for all were too busy
to take much heed of her. Shane, with a prospect of departing
northward, which rumours of accumulating outrages seemed to make more
and more urgent, shilly-shallied and delayed, and selected guns and
fishing-rods, and invited little knots of Cherokees, and spent more
and more time at the Little House, as though the effort to tear
himself away from Dublin delights and beloved Norah were too much for
his resolution.
Under the circumstances he was not likely to trouble his cousin with
attentions; and Doreen breathed freely again so far as her private
affairs were concerned, for she perceived that this project of her
aunt's was fading into a vision which never would and never could be
realised. Any one who watched might see that Shane was desperately
smitten with Norah, and Doreen was in no wise jealous. Norah was a
nice girl, Doreen determined, who was worthy to become a countess, and
she would help to make her happy as much as she could.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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