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Updated: June 4, 2025
His heart was still sore at the recollection of his bitter disappointment on the fateful evening when the rick was burnt. She had not come to meet him on that night of all nights in the year! He knew, through Jack McEvoy, that she had promised her grandfather never to speak to him again. She had broken faith with him.
As I placed my foot on the oilcloth of the hall, I was confronted by the nightmare spectacle of my brother creeping towards me on all-fours through the open door of the dining-room, and then, crowning this already over-loaded moment, there arose a series of yells from Miss McEvoy as blood-curdling as they were excusable, yet, as even in my maniac flight to the kitchen I recognised, something muffled by Marie biscuit.
"Heth, he's the fine lamb!" retorted the father sarcastically. "Well, I believe they have everything now, down to the little creepy. Good luck to ye, Jack McEvoy; mind how ye go takin' it up the road don't be dhroppin' any of it out o' the cart. Give me compliments to Mr. Rorke, and tell him I hope he'll enjoy my iligant furnitur, an' much good may it do him!"
"With that then," she continued, "Miss McEvoy lands into the hall, an' 'O Letitia, says she, 'those must be the gentleman's fishing rods! and then 'Julia! says she, 'could ye give us a bit o' lunch? That one's the imp!" "Look here!" said Robert hoarsely, and with the swiftness of panic, "I'm off! I'll get out over the back wall."
God reward and keep her long in the way to do it! with all this, Miss O'Shea had not accomplished the first stage of her journey to Dublin, when Peter Gill was seated in the office of Pat McEvoy, the attorney at Moate smart practitioner, who had done more to foster litigation between tenant and landlord than all the 'grievances' that ever were placarded by the press.
Could they all be asleep, or was Miss McEvoy watching us through the keyhole? There remained only my hat, which was upstairs, and at this, the last moment, Robert remembered his fly-book, left under the clock in the dining-room. I again passed the drawing-room in safety, and got upstairs, Robert effecting at the same moment his third entry into the dining-room.
I was in the act of thrusting in the second hat pin when I heard the drawing-room door open. I admit that, obeying the primary instinct of self-preservation, my first impulse was to lock myself in; it passed, aided by the recollection that there was no key. I made for the landing, and from thence viewed, in a species of trance, Miss McEvoy crossing the hall and entering the dining-room.
A long and deathly pause followed. She was a small woman; had Robert strangled her? After two or three horrible minutes a sound reached me, the well-known rattle of the side-board drawer. All then was well Miss McEvoy was probably looking for the biscuits, and Robert must have escaped in time through the window. I took my courage in both hands and glided downstairs.
"Bedad, ye are in a terrible hurry altogether," remarked Jack McEvoy, who happened to be driving. "I suppose ye are in a hurry to get to Monavoe." He laughed and winked. "Begorrah, if the ould Masther could lift his head out o' the grave, I wonder what he'd say at me goin' to fetch a husband for his granddaughter out o' Mount Kennedy gaol?"
As, however, what there was of Miss McEvoy was chiefly remarkable for a monstrous appetite and a marked penchant for young men, it seems to me mainly to be regretted that there should be as much of her as there is. A drive of nine miles in the heat of a June morning is not undertaken without a sustaining expectation of luncheon at the end of it.
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