Another great adventure by this Irish novelist.
The peasant woman felt almost sick in her horror at such a sentiment, and she moved towards the door to pass out.
"Have you thought of everything, Molly?" asked he, more mildly.
"I think so, Sir. There's to be twenty-eight at the wake--twenty-nine, if Mr. Rafter comes; but we don't expect him--and Father Lowrie would make thirty; but we've plenty for them all."
"And when will this--this feasting--take place?"
"The night before the funeral, by coorse," said the woman.
"And they will all leave this the next morning, Molly?"
"Indeed I suppose they will, Sir," said she, no less offended at the doubt than at the inhospitable meanness of the question.
"So be it, then!" said he, with a sigh. "I have nothing more to say."
"You know, Sir," said she, with a great effort at courage, "that they'll expect your Honour will go in for a minute or two--to drink their healths, and say a few words to them?"
He shook his head in dissent, but said noth
A remarkable book all Irish men and women should read. And other folks, as well.
It has all the faults of mid-nineteenth century fiction—dependence on coincidence, melodrama, speeches never spoken by living beings before the advent of the teleprompter, and some characters too fine to exist anywhere but in Heaven. In addition it goes on forever.
Yet Lever is so fine a storyteller that I was eager to pick it up again after each errand that required it to be set aside. Although I guessed the outcomes of plot and major subplot quite early on, the plotting is sufficiently intricate that I was continually eager to see how the author would manage to work things out.
Leaves a few strands unfinished and a few villains unpunished. Further, I'm uncertain if I want to read any others by Lever, since I doubt he can top this.