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Updated: June 21, 2025
"I am going down to Scotland to-night," said he to Maurice, "and I have just got a telegram from Miss Cunyngham you may have heard of her from Mr. Moore?" "Oh, yes," Mangan said. "She wishes me to bring her the latest news." Well, he was told what there was to tell which was not much, amid all this dire uncertainty. He looked perplexed.
Rumor had on more than one occasion coupled his name with that of some fair damsel; what if he were to say now, "Well, if you will talk, here is one worth talking about." He was conscious on this shining morning that Miss Cunyngham the more beautiful daughter of a beautiful mother was looking superb; he remembered what Miss Georgie had said about Honnor's proud and graceful carriage.
He knew who she was; this must be Honnor Cunyngham, Lady Adela's sister-in-law; and of course he did not wish to intrude on the young lady's privacy; he would try to pass by behind her unobserved, though here the strath narrowed until it was almost a defile. He was soon relieved from all anxiety. Sharper eyes than his own had perceived him.
Honnor Cunyngham is far too good-looking for you to go talking salmon to her all day long. Very handsome I call her; don't you? She's so distinguished, somehow so different from any one else.
And then he took out the bright little coin; surely Honnor Cunyngham could not object to his wearing it, seeing that it had proved itself such a potent charm? He rejoiced that he had not been frightened off his expedition by tales of its monotonous sufferings and dire fatigues. This was something better than arranging an out-of-door performance for a parcel of amateurs!
But it was too much to expect that Miss Cunyngham should still be lingering by any of those pools; the evening was closing in; she must have set out for home long ago, fishing her way down as she went. They passed a shepherd's solitary cottage; the old man came out to hear the news which was told him in Gaelic.
And now, in this long spell of idleness in the North, amid these gracious surroundings, if he had had to confess that he found a singular fascination in the society of Honnor Cunyngham, why, he would have discovered a dozen reasons and excuses rather than admit that poetical sentiment had anything to do with it.
If this is some girl who has a love-sick fancy for Harry Thornhill, don't you think you should drop Harry Thornhill and play David Garrick, to cure the poor thing?" "Considering that Miss Cunyngham has never seen Harry Thornhill," he was beginning, when she interrupted him: "Oh, only heard him sing in private? Quite enough, I suppose, to put nonsense into a silly school-girl's head."
"Miss Cunyngham's brother, Sir Hugh, married a sister of Lord Rockminster the Lady Adela Cunyngham who came to your room one night don't you remember?"
His youngest sister, Lady Rosamund Bourne, painted indefatigably in both water and oils, and had more than once exhibited in Suffolk Street; Lady Sybil devoted herself to music, and was a well-known figure at charitable concerts; while the eldest sister, Lady Adela, considered literature and the drama as more particularly under her protection, nor had she ceased to interest herself in these graceful arts when she married Sir Hugh Cunyngham, of the Braes, that famous breeder of polled cattle.
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