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Authors: Shannon Farrell
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to rest lightly in his lap. Lochlainn's left
arm linked with her right, their hands almost touching. They munched
their light repast silently, each absorbed in their own reflections.
Lochlainn was glad the other four people in the coach prevented them
from talking about private matters. He needed some time to think.
All of this had happened so suddenly. Since he had first broken the
news to Muireann about her dire situation, he felt as though his
feet hadn't touched the ground.
He recollected with a vague sense of unease Father Brennan's warning
about her trying to take on too much in an attempt to block out the
grief she obviously felt. She had admitted she had married Augustine
for love despite his faults, hadn't she? She had even known of his
gambling habits. That alone proved to him the depth of her love for
her dead husband, worthless though he had been in Lochlainn's eyes.
Her reluctance to go back to her family was more puzzling. They
certainly seemed to be nice people from what she had said, and
judging from the expensive and truly breathtaking trousseau she had
said her family had insisted upon. At the same time, she had taken
only three of the plainest dresses out of the cases, and had sold
her jewelry without so much as a murmur.
She had even, Lochlainn noticed, made the ultimate sacrifice,
removing her wedding ring in the shop and offering it to Mr. Murphy,
who had eventually purchased it with obvious reluctance. He had no
doubt see through the story of the fake sister after all. The story
of Augustine's death had been the morning papers. Perhaps Mr. Murphy
had guessed who she was? He only hoped he would be discreet about
who had sold him all the finery.
Lochlainn munched a second muffin slowly, savoring the rich buttery
taste, while Muireann occasionally chatted with the older lady by
her side, Mrs. Barnes, asking questions about all the town and
villages they passed, and avoiding any personal matters she tried to
pry into.
Mrs. Butler and her husband sitting opposite were quite
knowledgeable about the countryside they traveled through. They were
only too pleased to give the young Scottish girl a little lecture on
the glories of the countryside.
"There are the Four Courts. They stand on the site of an old
confiscated monastery. James the Second held his last ever
parliament here in 1689, and they became the official law courts,
replacing an older building erected in 1541.
"That's Whitworth Bridge, built in 1818, and quite modern compared
to some parts of the city. For example, St. Michan's over there
dates from 1095, long before the Normans ever arrived here, though
it was partly restored in 1685. Over there on Usher's Island is the
Mendicity Institute."
"It's a fine building," Muireann remarked, "though it does look like
it's seen better days."
"It was once the home of the Rawdons, but they lost it in 1808.
There is the Bluecoat School, very prestigious, and the Royal
Barracks."
"What are they constructing over there?" she asked, pointed at a red
brick building rising up from the south bank of the River Liffey.
"That's going to be our railway station," Mr. Butler announced
proudly.
Lochlainn glanced over at it, trying desperately to stay awake.
"There's Phoenix Park, set up by the Viceroy Lord Chesterfield in
1747. The wall is seven miles long, and that huge obelisk is the
Wellington Testimonial, put up in 1841. There's even a zoo, full of
lions and other exotic animals," Mrs. Butler said with a quiver of
excitement.
"Oh my, lions!" Muireann marveled.
"Have you ever seen one?" Mr. Butler asked. "Magnificent beasts."
Muireann nodded. "Yes, I have. As you say, they really are
quite splendid."
Lochlainn glanced at her in surprise, and made a mental note to
himself to go to the zoo the next time he happened to be in
arm linked with her right, their hands almost touching. They munched
their light repast silently, each absorbed in their own reflections.
Lochlainn was glad the other four people in the coach prevented them
from talking about private matters. He needed some time to think.
All of this had happened so suddenly. Since he had first broken the
news to Muireann about her dire situation, he felt as though his
feet hadn't touched the ground.
He recollected with a vague sense of unease Father Brennan's warning
about her trying to take on too much in an attempt to block out the
grief she obviously felt. She had admitted she had married Augustine
for love despite his faults, hadn't she? She had even known of his
gambling habits. That alone proved to him the depth of her love for
her dead husband, worthless though he had been in Lochlainn's eyes.
Her reluctance to go back to her family was more puzzling. They
certainly seemed to be nice people from what she had said, and
judging from the expensive and truly breathtaking trousseau she had
said her family had insisted upon. At the same time, she had taken
only three of the plainest dresses out of the cases, and had sold
her jewelry without so much as a murmur.
She had even, Lochlainn noticed, made the ultimate sacrifice,
removing her wedding ring in the shop and offering it to Mr. Murphy,
who had eventually purchased it with obvious reluctance. He had no
doubt see through the story of the fake sister after all. The story
of Augustine's death had been the morning papers. Perhaps Mr. Murphy
had guessed who she was? He only hoped he would be discreet about
who had sold him all the finery.
Lochlainn munched a second muffin slowly, savoring the rich buttery
taste, while Muireann occasionally chatted with the older lady by
her side, Mrs. Barnes, asking questions about all the town and
villages they passed, and avoiding any personal matters she tried to
pry into.
Mrs. Butler and her husband sitting opposite were quite
knowledgeable about the countryside they traveled through. They were
only too pleased to give the young Scottish girl a little lecture on
the glories of the countryside.
"There are the Four Courts. They stand on the site of an old
confiscated monastery. James the Second held his last ever
parliament here in 1689, and they became the official law courts,
replacing an older building erected in 1541.
"That's Whitworth Bridge, built in 1818, and quite modern compared
to some parts of the city. For example, St. Michan's over there
dates from 1095, long before the Normans ever arrived here, though
it was partly restored in 1685. Over there on Usher's Island is the
Mendicity Institute."
"It's a fine building," Muireann remarked, "though it does look like
it's seen better days."
"It was once the home of the Rawdons, but they lost it in 1808.
There is the Bluecoat School, very prestigious, and the Royal
Barracks."
"What are they constructing over there?" she asked, pointed at a red
brick building rising up from the south bank of the River Liffey.
"That's going to be our railway station," Mr. Butler announced
proudly.
Lochlainn glanced over at it, trying desperately to stay awake.
"There's Phoenix Park, set up by the Viceroy Lord Chesterfield in
1747. The wall is seven miles long, and that huge obelisk is the
Wellington Testimonial, put up in 1841. There's even a zoo, full of
lions and other exotic animals," Mrs. Butler said with a quiver of
excitement.
"Oh my, lions!" Muireann marveled.
"Have you ever seen one?" Mr. Butler asked. "Magnificent beasts."
Muireann nodded. "Yes, I have. As you say, they really are
quite splendid."
Lochlainn glanced at her in surprise, and made a mental note to
himself to go to the zoo the next time he happened to be in
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