"
A quarter of an hour later Darius Boland said to Sheila: "He's got an
order from England to keep Mr. Calhoun to his estate and to punish him,
if he infringes the order."
Sheila started. "He will infringe the order if it's made, Boland. But
the governor will be unwise to try and impose it. I will tell him so."
"But, mistress, he should not be told that this news comes from me."
"No, he should not, Boland. I can tempt him to speak of it, I think.
He hates Mr. Calhoun, and will not need much prompting."
Sheila had changed since she saw Dyck Calhoun last. Her face was
thinner, but her form was even fuller than it was when she had bade him
good-bye, as it seemed to him for ever, and as it at first seemed to her.
Through anxious days and nights she had fought with the old passion; and
at last it seemed the only way to escape from the torture was by making
all thought of him impossible. How could this be done? Well, Lord
Mallow would offer a way. Lord Mallow was a man of ancient Irish family,
was a governor, had ability, was distinguished-looking in a curious lean
way; and he had a real gift with his tongue.
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