Fardorougha, The Miser eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 455 pages of information about Fardorougha, The Miser.

Fardorougha, The Miser eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 455 pages of information about Fardorougha, The Miser.

As Connor put the foregoing question to her, he took her hand in his.

“In what finger?” she replied, “I don’t—­indeed—­I—­I believe in the—­the—­but what—­what is this?—­I am very—­very weak.”

“Let me support you to the summer—­house, where you can sit,” returned Connor, still clasping her soft delicate hand in his; then, circling her slender waist with the other, he helped her to a seat under the thick shade of the osiers.

Una’s countenance immediately became pale as death, and her whole frame trembled excessively.

“You are too weak even to sit without support,” said Connor, “your head is droopin’.  For God’s sake, lean it over on me!  Oh!  I’d give ten thousand lives to have it on my breast only for one moment!”

Her paleness still continued; she gazed on him, and, as he gently squeezed her hand, a slight pressure was given in return.  He then drew her head over upon his shoulder, where it rather fell than leaned; a gush of tears came from her eyes, and the next moment, with sobbing hearts, they were encircled in each other’s arms.

From this first intoxicating draught of youthful love, they were startled by the voice of Mrs. O’Brien calling upon her daughter, and, at the same time, to their utter dismay, they observed the portly dame sailing, in her usual state, down towards the arbor, with an immense bunch of keys dangling from her side.

“Oonagh, Miss—­Miss Oonagh—­where are you, Miss, Ma Colleen?—­Here’s a litther,” she proceeded, when Una appeared, “from Mrs. Fogarty, your school-misthress, to your fadher—­statin’ that she wants you to finish your Jiggraphy at the dancin’, wid a new dancin’—­teacher from Dubling.  Why—­Eah! what ails you, Miss, Ma Colleen?  What the dickens wor you cryin’ for?”

“These nasty bees that stung me,” returned the girl.  “Oh, for goodness sake, mother dear, don’t come any farther, except you wish to have a whole hive upon you!”

“Why, sure, they wouldn’t sting any one that won’t meddle wid them,” replied the mother in a kind of alarm.

“The sorra pin they care, mother—­don’t come near them; I’ll be in, by an’ by.  Where’s my father?”

“He’s in the house, an’ wants you to answer Mrs. Fogarty, statin’ feder you’ll take a month’s larnin’ on the flure or not.”

“Well, I’ll see her letter in a minute or two, but you may tell my father he needn’t wait—­I won’t answer it to-night at all event’s.”

“You must answer it on the nail,” replied her mother, “becase the messager’s waitin’ in the kitchen ’ithin.”

“That alters the case altogether,” returned Una, “and I’ll follow you immediately.”

The good woman then withdrew, having once more enjoined the daughter to avoid delay, and not to detain the messenger.

“You must go instantly,” she said to Connor.  “Oh, what would happen me if they knew that I lov—­that I—­” a short pause ensued, and she blushed deeply.

Copyrights
Project Gutenberg
Fardorougha, The Miser from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.