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Updated: June 23, 2025
Then there's a hand thrust in, and up goes the sword, and the rifles, pikes, and bayonets; and those that were ready to mutilate or kill each other fall into each other's arms." Erris Boyne laughed. "Well, there'll soon be an end to that. The Irish Parliament is slipping into disrepute. It wouldn't surprise me if the astute English bribe them into a union, to the ruin of Irish Independence.
Suddenly a passion of remorse roused him out of his semi-stupefaction. "Michael, Michael!" he said, his voice hoarse, broken. "Don't say such a thing! Are you sure?" Michael nodded. "I'm sure. I got it from one that's known Erris Boyne and his first wife and girl one that was a servant to them both in past days. He's been down to Limerick to see Mrs. Llyn and the beautiful daughter.
"I'm damned sorry we had to fight at all. Good-bye!" "There's many a government has made a mess of things in Ireland," said Erris Boyne; "but since the day of Cromwell the Accursed this is the worst. Is there a man in Ireland that believes in it, or trusts it?
Sheila at once thought this to be the cause of her mother's agitation, and she reached out a hand for it. Her mother hesitated, then handed the clipping to her. Fortunately it contained no statement save the bare facts connected with the killing of Erris Boyne, and no reference to the earlier life of the dead man. It said no more than that Dyck Calhoun must take his trial at the sessions.
He wasn't particular where he made love a barmaid or a housekeeper, it was all the same to him." "I hope the daughter doesn't know that Erris Boyne was her father," said Dyck. "There's plenty can tell her, and she'll hear it sooner or later." Miles Calhoun looked at his son with dejection. His eyes wandered over the grimly furnished cell.
With a sudden burst of primitive anger, Dyck got to his feet, staggering a little, but grasping the fatal meaning of the whole thing. He looked Erris Boyne in the eyes. His own were bloodshot and dissipated, but there was a look in them of which Boyne might well take heed. Boyne had not counted on Dyck's refusal; or, if it had occurred to him, the remedy, an ancient one, was ready to his fingers.
"Tell me," he asked eagerly, "are my men camped around the royalists? Is help indeed coming to you from the North?" "Yes," she replied, trying to quiet him. "A pigeon came in from Erris to-day, with word that two ships with men were on the way to help me. When I returned from the South and found that the plague had been at Gorumna, I sent off asking for help, and now it is coming."
How should he know that the girl was Erris Boyne's daughter? although there were times when some gesture of Boyne, some quick look, some lifting of the eyebrows, brought back the memory of Sheila Llyn, as it did now. Since Dyck left his old home he had seen her twice; once at Loyland Towers, and once at her home in Limerick.
Two hours afterwards the landlord opened the door. Erris Boyne lay in his silence, stark and still. At the table, with his head sunk in his arms, sat Dyck Calhoun, snoring stertorously, his drawn sword by his side. With a cry the old man knelt on the floor beside the body of Erris Boyne. When Dyck Calhoun waked, he was in the hands of the king's constables, arrested for the murder of Erris Boyne.
She had imagined Erris Boyne living in suburban quiet, not drawing his wife into his social scheme. That is what had happened. The woman had lived apart from the daily experiences of her husband's life in Dublin; and it had deepened her bitterness against him.
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