Ireland -- Fiction; Land League (Ireland) -- Fiction; Land tenure -- Fiction; Political fiction
"Not a word. Indeed it was not I who told papa. It was Peter. Peter
said that there was something between you and him, and papa asked me.
I told papa that he was in love with you. That was true at any rate.
You won't deny that?"
"I will deny anything that connects my name with that of Captain
Yorke Clayton."
But Ada had determined how that matter should arrange itself. Since
the blow had first fallen on her, she had had time to think of
it,--and she had thought of it. Edith had done her best for her
(presuming that this brave Captain was the best) and she in return
would do her best for Edith. No one knew the whole story but they
two. They were to be to her the dearest friends of her future life,
and she would not let the knowledge of such a story stand in her way
or theirs.
The train was to start from the Ballyglunin station for Athenry at
4.20 p.m. It would then have left Tuam for Athenry, where it would
fall into the day mail-train from Dublin to Galway. It was something
out of the way for Mr. Jones to call at Carnlough; but Carnlough was
not three miles from Ballyglunin, and Mr. Jones made his arrangements
accordingly. He called at Carnlough, and there took up the boy on
his outside car. Peter had come with him, so as to take back the
car to Morony Castle. But Peter had made himself of late somewhat
disagreeable, and Mr. Jones had in truth been sulky.
"Look here, Peter," he had said, speaking from one side of the car
to the other, "if you are afraid to come to Ballyglunin with me and
Master Flory, say so, and get down."
"I'm not afeared, Mr. Jones."
"Then don't say so. I don't believe you are afeared as you call it."
"Then why do you be talking at me like that, sir?"
"I don't think you are a coward, but you are anxious to make the
most of your services on my behalf. You are telling everyone that
something special is due to you for staying in a boycotted house.
It's a kind of service for which I am grateful, but I can't be
grateful and pay too."
"Why do you talk to a poor boy in that way?"
"So that the poor boy may understand me. You are willing, I believe,
to stick to your old master,--from sheer good heart. But you like to
talk about it. Now I don't like to hear about it." After that Peter
drove on in silence till they came to Carnlough.
The car had been seen coming up the avenue, and Mr. Blake, with his
wife and Florian, were standing on the door-steps. "Now do take care
of the poor dear boy," said Mrs. Blake. "There are such dreadful
stories told of horrible men about the country."
"Don't mention such nonsense, Winifred," said her husband, "trying
to frighten the boy. There isn't a human being between this and
Ballyglunin for whom I won't be responsible. Till you come to a mile
of the station it's all my own property."
"But they can shoot--" Then Mrs. Blake left the rest of her sentence
unspoken, having been checked by her husband's eye. The boy, however,
had heard it and trembled.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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