My Lords of Strogue, Vol. 3 (of 3): A Chronicle of Ireland, from the Convention to the UnionWingfield, Lewis
History
My Lords of Strogue, Vol. 3 (of 3): A Chronicle of Ireland, from the Convention to the Union
Wingfield, Lewis
Historical fiction; Ireland -- History -- 18th century -- Fiction
'Would Miss Wolfe have your lordship?' he said carelessly; 'sure, it's
many a colleen that'd jump at your refined appearance, let alone your
wealth. But she----' the sentence remained unfinished, out of respect.
He would not make disagreeable remarks to his patron for anything
whatever. He therefore whistled in a deprecating and provoking manner,
while the latter echoed pettishly:
'But she--what?'
'Maybe I'd best not tell ye! Well--if ye will have it--she--I fear
she's sweet upon another gintleman--that's bad?'
Shane was fairly startled. It had never struck him that she could have
already given herself away--to whom? As her form began to appear
shadowy, he, with the usual inconsistency of man, began to hanker
wildly after the ice-maiden--not for herself of course, but for the
money-box.
'It's not possible!' he cried.
''Deed 'tis!' returned the other, with compassion. 'She's deep in love
with Councillor Crosbie. I've known it this long while.'
Shane ground his teeth and sprang upon his feet. This last blow was
too much. What! this interloper was going to rob him of his birthright
and his name, and, not content with that, was also going to take the
precious ice-maiden, whose paltry little stockingful would at least
keep hunger from the pauper's door. In an access of rage Shane paraded
up and down the club-room like a tiger. Inflamed by his own critical
condition he lashed himself into savage unreasoning passion, and
Cassidy whistled softly before the fire, with his big legs stretched
out and his fists deep in his pockets, until the young man should have
attained the requisite degree of heat. Then, when he judged the
patient's temper to be sufficiently exasperated, he passed his arm
through his, and in a low coaxing voice poured poison in his ear while
the two walked. Sure, his lordship must take the bull by the horns and
act promptly, unless he was satisfied to sit with hands before him and
lose all. He must take measures to prevent Master Terence from seeing
any more of his mother or of Miss Doreen until something could be
definitely settled.
Shane half understood, and his blood tingled.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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