Such as it is, however, our friend, Gerald Cavanagh, and his wife--who,
by the way, bore the domestic sceptre in all matters of importance--both
possessed it in all its amplitude and vigor. When the kemp had been
broken up that night, and the family assembled, Mrs. Cavanagh opened the
debate in an oration of great heat and bitterness, but sadly deficient
in moderation and logic.
"What on earth could you mane, Kathleen," she proceeded, "to refuse
dancin' wid such a young man--a gintleman I ought to say--as Hycy Burke,
the son of the wealthiest man in the whole parish, barring the gentry?
Where is the girl that wouldn't bounce at him?--that wouldn't lave
a single card unturned to secure him? Won't he have all his father's
wealth?--won't he have all his land when the ould man dies? and indeed
it's he that will live in jinteel style when he gets everything into
his own hands, as he ought to do, an' not go dhramin' an' dhromin' about
like his ould father, without bein' sartin whether he's alive or not.
He would be something for you, girl, something to turn out wid, an'
that one could feel proud out of; but indeed, Kathleen, as for pride
and decency, you never had as much o' them as you ought, nor do you hold
your head as high as many another girl in your place would do. Deed
and throth I'm vexed at you, and ashamed of you, to go for to hurt his
feelins as you did, widout either rhyme or raison.
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