She kissed me almost timidly, with her eyes down.
"She has taken me back again, Bawn," said Uncle Luke.
"He would not listen to me when I said I was too old," said my dear
godmother.
In the dining-room Neil Doherty was bustling about with an air of great
importance. Lord and Lady St. Leger had not yet come in.
"Sure, it never rains but it pours," Neil said, lifting a bottle of wine
from the hearth where he had put it to take the chill off. "There's a
great stir in the country. 'Tisn't enough to have Master Luke walking in
to us safe and sound last night, but Garret Dawson's been found dead in
his study. They didn't dare disturb him when he was busy. At last when
Mrs. Dawson herself sent he was dead. A good riddance to bad rubbish,
say I."
It was no use rebuking Neil for his want of charity to the dead. I knew
there were worse things being said of Garret Dawson by every peasant. We
were silent, awed, by this sudden and awful happening. I thought of
poor comfortable Mrs. Dawson, and felt that, tyrant as he had been to
her, she would grieve for him as though he had been a pattern of all the
virtues. Yet she had her son. A thought came to me that Garret Dawson
had not had time to disinherit his son after all.
Pages:
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254