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Updated: June 27, 2025
She would have dismissed the governess and engaged another, trusting to her own pleadings and the powerful appeals of her purse to win her over, but the handwriting would not be the same, and she would not for worlds have allowed her husband to think she had deceived him. The day came for their departure for Orchard Beach, where Mr. D'Alton had taken a cottage for their use.
They arrived at her destination in due course, and were comfortably ensconced in the cosy little cottage. Miss Watson, the governess, dressed herself up, and with the children departed for the promenade, and Mrs. D'Alton was left to her own reflections.
Count Murray was now named governor-general; and it was evident that the future fate of the provinces was to depend on the issue of civil war. Count Trautmansdorff, the imperial minister at Brussels, and General D'Alton, who commanded the Austrian troops, took a high tone, and evinced a peremptory resolution.
On repairing thither he found the doctor at home, and, requesting a few minutes' private conversation, was soon closeted in the consultation room. "I have long intended to see you," Mr. D'Alton began, "about a young lady who lived in our family some years ago in the capacity of nursery-governess. "Has the young lady, then, no friends or relatives?" "None, whatever.
D'Alton felt it very keenly. She had not, like him, drank the cup of life's pleasures till it tasted insipid or even nauseous; on the contrary, she looked on the pomps and vanities of society as only a woman can look on them, and now that she was legally respectable, and rich enough to keep pace with even the most fashionable of her neighbors, it made her very heart ache to think that these scenes of brightness were closed to her as much as ever.
And then there was another Englishman, Lord Clanricarde, the most inimitable of Pierrots, in a black skull-cap, with his melancholy face whitened, playing a series of nocturnal jokes, with the roof of a fiacre for his platform. Count d'Alton, too, M. de Chateauvillard, and others, were the authors of all kinds of witty fooling.
Precise figures are not easily arrived at, but Mr D'Alton in his "History of the County Dublin," a book quite innocent of politics, calculates that the absentee rental of Ireland was in 1804 not less than £3,000,000, and in 1830 not less than £4,000,000, an under-estimate.
D'Alton was dangerously ill, the announcement of her death being reserved for a time till all the traces of the recent festivities were removed, and the house had resumed its normal condition. When the children heard of their mother's death they rent the air with their cries of anguish; even Miss Watson shed real tears, her occupation, like that of Othello, being gone. Poor Mr.
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