Dowling Richard. Tempest-Driven: A Romance (Vol. 3 of 3)
CHAPTER XXXII. SALMON AND COWS
CHAPTER XXXIII. A FORTUNE LOST
CHAPTER XXXIV. A TELEGRAM FROM THE MAIL
CHAPTER XXXV. THE TRAVELLERS
CHAPTER XXXVI. SOLICITOR AND CLIENT
CHAPTER XXXVII. THE WIDOW'S THEORY OF THE CASE
CHAPTER XXXVIII "WHERE'ER I CAME I BROUGHT CALAMITY."
CHAPTER XXXIX. A COMPACT
CHAPTER XL. AN EXPEDITION PROPOSED
CHAPTER XLI. AT THE WHALE'S MOUTH
CHAPTER XLII. THE RED CAVE
CHAPTER XLIII. A RETROSPECT
CHAPTER XLIV. A LAST APPEAL
CHAPTER XLV. BEYOND THE VEIL
CHAPTER XLVI. AN EVENING WALK
CHAPTER XLVII. CONCLUSION
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That day settled many things. Alfred had told O'Brien that no matter how unwise or rash it might seem, he had made up his mind to try his fate with Mrs. Davenport-not, of course, at that time, perhaps not very soon, but ultimately, and as soon as possible.
Until that day-until he had seen her moved by the sense of her own loneliness, until he had seen the tears start into her eyes-he had not said even to himself that he loved her. He told himself over and over again that he would risk his prospects, his life, his honour for her. How his prospects or life could be imperilled he did not know, did not care. He had a modest fortune of his own, and her husband had left her the bulk of his great wealth. He would have preferred her poor rather than rich. But if she would marry him, he would not allow the fact that she had money to stand in the way of his happiness. She had for a while, owing to circumstances in which no blame attached to her, found herself labouring under a hideous suspicion. From the shadow of that suspicion she had emerged without blemish. She had been cruelly ill-used by fate, but it had been shown she was blameless. Where, then, could danger to his honour lie? Her beauty was undeniable; her family unexceptionable. She had been sold to an old man by a venal lover. In this lurked no disgrace to her. What could his father or mother find in her to object to? Nothing-absolutely nothing. That day his father and mother showed great pleasure in seeing her again. His father had suggested-nay, arranged-that he should accompany her on that long journey to Ireland.
.....
She paused, and a peculiar smile took possession of her face. All eyes were fixed on her in expectation. No one cared to speak. What could that strange break mean? Surely, to describe a scene or phenomenon of the coast with which she was most familiar could not be very distressing?
"But," she resumed, "it is my home no longer. It is true I am going back there for a little time-a few weeks; but that is only to arrange matters. I have now no home."
