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Updated: June 23, 2025
"I have seen them used in Spain." With that she described how she used these pigeons, and Brian saw that it was not by strength alone that this girl had maintained her position. She kept men in Galway, Kinvarra, and elsewhere, as far south as the Shannon and as far north as Erris, with others at Limerick and Tuam and Castlebar.
Yet all at once there came to her mind a softening feeling. Erris Boyne had been rightly killed by a woman he had wronged, for he was a traitor as well as an adulterer one who could use no woman well, who broke faith with all civilized tradition, and reverted to the savage. Surely the woman's crime was not a dark one; it was injured innocence smiting depravity, tyranny and lust.
She was deluding herself to believe that what she was doing was all for the best; that the clouds were rising; that her fate had fairer aspects than had seemed possible when Dyck Calhoun told her the terrible tale of the death of her father, Erris Boyne. Yet memory gave a touch of misery and bitterness to all she thought and did.
It's years since he was tried and condemned. Two days cannot matter now." "Perhaps not. Last night the woman said to me: 'I'm glad I'm going to die." Then he added: "Calhoun will be more popular than ever now." The governor winced. An hour after Noreen Boyne had been laid in her grave, there was a special issue of the principal paper telling all the true facts of the death of Erris Boyne.
After a moment of anguished bewilderment, she said: "You mean that Erris Boyne was my father?" "Yes, I mean that. They say I killed him. They say that he was found with no sword drawn, but that my open sword lay on the table beside me while I was asleep, and that it had let out his life-blood." "Why was he killed?" she asked, horror-stricken and with pale lips.
If the truth were told, whatever it is, I believe it would be to your credit I'll say that for you. If it was to your credit, even if they believe you guilty of killing Erris Boyne, they'd touch you lightly. Ah, in the name of the mother you loved, I ask you to tell the truth about that quarrel! Give it into the hands of the jury, and let them decide. Haven't you got a heart in you?
He was not prepared for Dyck's indignant outburst. "I tell you this, Erris Boyne, there's none has ever tried me as you have done! What do you think I am a thing of the dirty street-corner, something to be swept up and cast into the furnace of treason? Look you, after to-day you and I will never break bread or drink wine together. No by Heaven, no!
If you killed Erris Boyne, he deserved it. He was a bad man, as the world knows. That isn't the point. Now, there's only one kind of quarrel that warrants non-disclosure." "You mean about a woman?" remarked Dyck coldly. The old man took a pinch of snuff nervously. "That's what I mean. Boyne was older than you, and perhaps you cut him out with a woman."
"She is now under arrest, though she doesn't know it. "What was her crime, your honour?" "She killed a man." "What man?" "Him for whom Dyck Calhoun was sent to prison Erris Boyne." "Mr. Calhoun was not guilty, then?" "No. As soon as the woman is dead, I mean to announce the truth." "Not till then, your honour?" "Not till then." "It's hard on Calhoun." "Is it?
Yet all at once there came to her mind a softening feeling. Erris Boyne had been rightly killed by a woman he had wronged, for he was a traitor as well as an adulterer one who could use no woman well, who broke faith with all civilized tradition, and reverted to the savage. Surely the woman's crime was not a dark one; it was injured innocence smiting depravity, tyranny and lust.
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