How was it possible that he should marry dear
Mary,--he, with such extensive jobs of work on his hands! It was not
possible. He must abandon all thought of making dear Mary his own. No
doubt they had been right to remove her. But, still, as he took his
solitary walks along the Shannon, and up on the hills that overhung
the lake above the town, he felt somewhat ashamed of himself, and
dreamed of giving up Parliament, of leaving Violet to some noble
suitor,--to Lord Chiltern, if she would take him,--and of going to
Floodborough with an honest proposal that he should be allowed to
press Mary to his heart. Miss Effingham would probably reject him
at last; whereas Mary, dear Mary, would come to his heart without
a scruple of doubt. Dear Mary! In these days of dreaming, he told
himself that, after all, dear Mary was his real love. But, of course,
such days were days of dreaming only. He had letters in his pocket
from Lady Laura Kennedy which made it impossible for him to think in
earnest of giving up Parliament.
And then there came a wonderful piece of luck in his way. There
lived, or had lived, in the town of Galway a very eccentric old lady,
one Miss Marian Persse, who was the aunt of Mrs. Finn, the mother
of our hero. With this lady Dr. Finn had quarrelled persistently
ever since his marriage, because the lady had expressed her wish to
interfere in the management of his family,--offering to purchase such
right by favourable arrangements in reference to her will.
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