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Updated: June 10, 2025
"Oh, I must; mamma expects me, you know." "Of course we should send word. Indeed, I must send to Clady to-morrow, and the man must pass by Desmond Court gate." "Oh yes, Clara; and you can write a line. It would be such a pity that you should not see all about the mill, now that we have talked it over together. Do tell her to stay, mamma." "I am sure I wish she would," said Lady Fitzgerald.
She was thinking how she would begin to say that for saying which there was so strong a necessity, and she could not take a part in small false badinage on a subject which was so near her heart. "And what about that stupid mason at Clady?" asked the countess, still making believe. "Mr.
Then he trotted off to Clady, passing the gate of Desmond Court without calling; did what he had promised to do at Clady, or rather that which he had made to stand as an excuse for again visiting that part of the world so quickly; and after that, with a conscience let us hope quite clear, rode up the avenue at Desmond Court.
"We can go with you to Berryhill, I suppose, can't we?" said Mary. "I shall be in a great hurry," said Herbert, who clearly did not wish to be encumbered by his sisters on this special expedition. "And why are you to be in such a hurry to-morrow?" asked Aunt Letty. "Well, I shall be hurried; I have promised to go to Clady again, and I must be back here early, and must get another horse."
Herbert had been with his father in the morning, and then having seen him and his mother well packed up in their shawls and cloaks, had mounted his horse and ridden off. "I may be kept some time," said he, "as I have promised to go on to Clady, and see after that soup kitchen."
Of Dunlewy, esteemed the loveliest of the Donegal lakes, we could see little or nothing as we hurried along the highway, which follows its course down to the Clady, the river of Gweedore; and we blessed the memory of Lord George Hill when suddenly turning from the wind and the rain into what seemed to be a mediaeval courtyard flanked by trees, we pulled up in the bright warm light of an open doorway, shook ourselves like Newfoundland dogs, and were welcomed by a frank, good-looking Scottish host to a glowing peat fire in this really comfortable little hotel, the central pivot of a most interesting experiment in civilisation.
GWEEDORE, Sunday, Feb. 5th. A morning as soft and bright almost as April succeeded the stormy night. Errigal lifted his bold irregular outlines royally against an azure sky. The sunshine glinted merrily on the swift waters of the Clady, which flows almost beneath our windows from Dunlewy Lough to the sea.
Herbert would have gone also, but he felt that he ought not to leave Castle Richmond that day, on account of his father. But he would certainly ride over, he said, and learn how her arm was the next morning. "And about Clady, you know," said Clara. "I will go on to Clady also. I did send a man there yesterday to see about the flue. It's the flue that's wrong, I know."
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