The House by the Church-YardLe Fanu, Joseph Sheridan
General
The House by the Church-Yard
Le Fanu, Joseph Sheridan
Country life -- Ireland -- Fiction; Ireland -- Social life and customs -- 18th century -- Fiction
And, indeed, confoundedly distressed he must have been, for he took his
brother-chip, Tom Toole, whom he loved not, to counsel upon his case--of
course, strictly as a question of dandelion, or gentian, or camomile
flowers; and Tom, who, as we all know, loved him reciprocally,
frightened him as well as he could, offered to take charge of his case,
and said, looking hard at him out of the corner of his cunning, resolute
little eye, as they sauntered in the park--
'But I need not tell _you_, my good Sir, that physic is of
small avail, if there is any sort of--a--a--vexation, or--or--in
short--a--a--_vexation,_ you know, on your mind.'
'A--ha, ha, ha!--what? Murdered my father, and married my grandmother?'
snarled Sturk, sneeringly, amused or affecting to be so, and striving to
laugh at the daisies before his toes, as he trudged along, with his
hands in his breeches' pockets. 'I have not a secret on earth, Sir. 'Tis
not a button to me, Sir, who talks about me; and I don't owe a guinea,
Sir, that is, that I could not pay to-morrow, if I liked it; and there's
nothing to trouble me--nothing, Sir, except this dirty, little, gouty
dyspepsy, scarce worth talking about.
Then came a considerable silence; and Toole's active little mind, having
just made a note of this, tripped off smartly to half-a-dozen totally
different topics, and he was mentally tippling his honest share of a
dozen of claret, with a pleasant little masonic party at the
Salmon-leap, on Sunday next, and was just going to charm them with his
best song, and a new verse of his own compounding, when Sturk, in a
moment, dispersed the masons, and brought him back by the ear at a jump
from the Salmon-leap, with a savage----
'And I'd like to know, Sir, who the deuce, or, rather, what
the ----(_plague_ we'll say) could put into your head, Sir, to suppose any
such matter?'
But this was only one of Sturk's explosions, and he and little Toole
parted no better and no worse friends than usual, in ten minutes more at
the latter's door-step.
So Toole said to Mrs. T. that evening----
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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