Good-bye, my Dark
Rosaleen, good-bye!
Chapter XXXII. 'As the sunflower turns.'
'No, the heart that has truly loved never forgets,
But as truly loves on to the close,
As the sunflower turns on her god, when he sets,
The same look which she turned when he rose.'
Thomas Moore.
Here we all are at O'Carolan's Hotel in Dublin--all but the
Colquhouns, who bade us adieu at the station, and the dear children,
whose tears are probably dried by now, although they flowed freely
enough at parting. Broona flung her arms tempestuously around
Salemina's neck, exclaiming between her sobs, "Good-bye, my
thousand, thousand blessings!"--an expression so Irish that we
laughed and cried in one breath at the sound of it.
Here we are in the midst of life once more, though to be sure it is
Irish life, which moves less dizzily than our own. We ourselves
feel thoroughly at home, nor are we wholly forgotten by the public;
for on beckoning to a driver on the cab-stand to approach with his
side-car, he responded with alacrity, calling to his neighbour,
"Here's me sixpenny darlin' again!" and I recognised him immediately
as a man who had once remonstrated with me eloquently on the subject
of a fee, making such a fire of Hibernian jokes over my sixpence
that I heartily wished it had been a half-sovereign.
Cables and telegrams are arriving every hour, and a rich American
lady writes to Salemina, asking her if she can purchase the Book of
Kells for her, as she wishes to give it to a favourite nephew who is
a bibliomaniac.
Pages:
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271