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Updated: June 8, 2025
Margret said nothing in reply; the morning, she thought, was gray and cold, like her own life. She stood leaning on the low cart; some strange sympathy drew her to this poor wretch, dwarfed, alone in the world, some tie of equality, which the odd childish face, nor the quaint air of content about the creature, did not lessen.
Such is one version of the story; the other is a more sinister tale, that his half-sister Margret cast Jarl Paul into a dungeon and had him murdered, and, so far as the Saga relates, he left no issue.
Look at the torpor of this face, the dead, frozen eyes! It is a 'nightmare death in life. Good God, to think that I have done this! To think of the countless days of agony, the nights, the years of solitude that have brought her to this, little Margret!" He paced the floor, slowly. She sat down on a low stool, leaning her head on her hands.
Jack put her down as 'a flinty-hearted ould maid. 'Her sort, she declared, 'is ever an' always sour an' bitther to them the Lord blesses wid a family. But all the same it became a regular thing for Margret to eat her Sunday dinner with the Laffans, and Mrs.
But when the road had crept through these hills, it suddenly shook off the cinders, and turned into the brown mould of the meadows, turned its back on trade and the smoky town, and speedily left it out of sight contemptuously, never looking back once. This was the country now in earnest. Margret slackened her step, drawing long breaths of the fresh cold air.
As the phaeton went slowly down, Margret came nearer, meeting it on the road-side, the dust from the wheels stifling the air. Lois saw her look up, and then suddenly stand still, holding to the fence, as they met her. Holmes's cold, wandering eye turned on the little dusty figure standing there, poor and despised.
She has swept her child's heart clean of anger and revenge, even scorn for the wretch that sold himself for money. There was nothing else to sweep out, was there?" bitterly, "no friendships, such as weak women nurse and coddle into being, or love, that they live in, and die for sometimes, in a silly way?" "Unmanly!" "No, not unmanly. Margret, let us be serious and calm.
There had never been any organised robbery in the Island since the cattle-lifting of the kernes long ago; but many a good woman fell of a tremble now when she thought of Margret and her 'stocking' alone through the silent night, and at the mercy of midnight robbers. There was not a day that several offerings were not laid at Margret's feet.
It was then I hurt you, Margret, to the death: your true life lay in me, as mine in you." He had gone on drearily, as though holding colloquy with himself, as though great years of meaning surged up and filled the broken words. It may have been thus with the girl, for her face deepened as she listened.
The old school-master shook his head as one who knows, and tried to push the thin gray hairs out of his eyes in a groping way. Margret lifted them back, so quietly that he did not feel her. "You'll call the Republic a sham next!" said the Doctor, coolly aggravating. "The Republic!" The old man quickened his tone, like a war-horse scenting the battle near at hand.
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