The Irish Upstart Read Online Free PDF Page B

simple man, engrossed in making a living with his fishing fleet. Evleen had long-since discovered he had little interest in poetry, art, or music, in other words, all the things she loved.
    Marriage with Timothy Murphy would be dull, indeed, but at least she would be secure.
    And it was what Mama wanted.
    “ Where would you find a finer man than Timothy Murphy? ” Mama asked but yesterday. “ Isn’t he the vicar’s son? Doesn’t he earn a good income with those fishing boats he owns? Doesn’t he go to church like clockwork every Sunday? Doesn’t he stay home with his dear old mother every night instead of drinking himself blind at The Shamrock and Thistle? ” Mama wagged her finger. “ Young ladies of twenty-four had best not be too choosy. ”
    “ But in Dublin ...” She stopped herself and said no more. Nothing would be gained by a another futile recollection of happier days long gone.
    Mama didn’t let Evleen’s words go unnoticed and said softly, “ Ay, you could have had your pick of society’s finest, back when we were rich. But we’re not in Dublin anymore, and we’re not rich anymore. ”
    You’re right, Mama, we’re poor—oh, so very, very poor, thanks to the Englishman . Evleen smiled up at Timothy. She would make herself love him—she would try very hard. After all, he was a hard worker, honest and trustworthy, who would gladly help her family. They needed help desperately, now that the eight hundred pounds was nearly gone.
    If only he had a bit of wit. If only he could see when she was only joking or when her imagination took flight. But perhaps in time she’d learn to love him, especially when he became father of the children she expected to have.
    As she stood gazing pensively at the sea, she sensed Timothy’s gaze upon her, no doubt with that puppy-dog, full-of-love expression in his eyes. Stop that , she chastised herself. That he loved her, there could be no doubt . S he shouldn’t be thinking unkind thoughts about him.
    “ What are you thinking? ” Timothy asked. No doubt he’d seen the far-away look in her eyes.
    “ I’m thinking it’s a beautiful day . ” He needn’t know what else she was thinking. “ I should get back. Mama’s not feeling good , as well as... there are other problems. ”
    As they strolled home, Evleen still could not shake off the feeling of something not being right. Perhaps it wasn’t Timothy. Perhaps it was the state of the family finances that was causing her woeful state of mind. To say the least, their lives had not gone as Mama had expected when they moved from Dublin to the little stone cottage that overlooked the sea. She thought the eight hundred pounds she received from the sale of the townhouse would last forever, supplemented by the lessons in deportment, French, and watercolors she would give the local gentry.
    What a rude awakening she received! What Mama failed to realize was that in this barren county with its rock-hard, unyielding soil, there was no local gentry, not to speak of, anyway. The vast majority of the citizens of County Clare lived a hand-to-mouth existence, eking barely enough sustenance from the sea and poor soil to stay alive. The ladies of County Clare did not spend their time planning balls, nor did they spend hours on fittings for fancy clothes or conduct “ at homes ” with liveried servants serving tea. Few had servants. There was hardly time to be a lady, either, because the women of County Clare were occupied with such matters as digging potatoes, cooking meals over an open fireplace, hauling water from the well, and cutting peat in the nearby bogs.
    Evleen and Timothy approached her family’s cottage. Built of stone, with lime-washed walls, it faced directly west, high on a hill that provided a magnificent view of the sea. The view was the only good thing about the cottage. Evleen would never forget that awful day nine years ago when, during a rainstorm, their wagon pulled to a stop in front of the