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Updated: June 22, 2025
I did not allow myself to think of what I intended to do that night, but I knew quite well, and when at one moment my conscience pressed me hard something cried out in my heart: "Who can blame me since my child's life is in danger?" I opened my trunk and took out my clothes all that remained of the dresses I had brought from Ellan.
The little reception-room into which I was shown was luxuriously, not to say gorgeously, appointed, with easy chairs and sofas, a large portrait of the Pope, signed by the Holy Father himself, and a number of pictures of great people of all kinds dukes, marquises, lords, counts as well as photographs of fashionable ladies in low dress inscribed in several languages to "My dear Father in God the Lord Bishop of Ellan."
Our seats in the saloon were at the top of the doctor's table, and the doctor himself was a young Irishman of three or four-and-twenty, as bright and breezy as a March morning and as racy of the soil as new-cut peat. Hearing that I was from Ellan he started me by asking if by chance I knew Martin Conrad. "Martin Conrad?" "Yes, Mart Conrad, as we call him.
All this time I saw nothing of Martin, and only heard through Doctor Conrad in his conversations with my mother, that the boy's broken arm had been set, and that as soon as it was better, he was to be sent to King George's College, which was at the other end of Ellan. What was to be done with myself I never inquired, being so satisfied that my mother could not get on without me.
Such a restful place, so green, so calm, so beautiful! Lying there in the midst of the tumultuous London traffic, it reminded me of one of the little islands in the middle of our Ellan glens, on which the fuchsia and wild rose grow while the river rolls and boils about it.
I was afraid of being thought to have personal motives of interfering where I wasn't wanted, of butting in when I had no right. Yet I felt I had a right, and I had half a mind to throw up everything and go back to Ellan. But the expedition was the big chance I had been looking forward to and I could not give it up. So I resolved to write.
I felt my face growing red as at a frightful faux pas, but his lordship only laughed, called me his "little nun," and said that since I had been willing to leave the choice to him he would suggest Egypt and Italy, and Berlin and Paris on the way back, with the condition that we left Ellan for London on the day of our marriage.
Eric had not lost his presence of mind. "Cheer up, Edwin," he shouted; "I will get back to you somehow. If I fail, crawl up to the top again." Again the wind carried away the reply, and Russell had sunk back on the rock. "Monty," said Eric, "just watch for a minute or two. When I have got across, run to Ellan as hard as you can tear, and tell them that we are cut off by the tide on the Stack.
"Wait until you're well enough, and we'll send her after you," said Dr. O'Sullivan. So the end of it all was that inside a week I was on my way to Ellan, not only with Martin, but also with Mildred, who, being a little out of health herself, had been permitted to take me home. Shall I ever forget our arrival at Blackwater!
When they were very great folks, the "aristocracy" of Ellan, he pretended not to know who they were, and asked their names, their father's names, and what parishes they came from. "Some of the Christians of Balla-Christian, are you? Think of that now. And me a born Ellanman, and not knowing you from Adam!"
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