10/34 The bold, bad woman sends the minstrel boy to his death, with his wild harp slung behind him. I could draw tears from the stoniest-hearted elder brother over that.' If he could have thought of a crime at the moment, Hyacinth would probably have confessed it; but he was bewildered, and could hit on nothing better than: 'I have no elder brother--in fact, no relation of any sort.' 'Lucky man! Now, I have a perfect specimen of a brother--James Quinn, Esquire, of Ballymoy. He's a churchwarden. Think of that! If it should be your melancholy duty to send the message home to him--in case that bullet hits me, I mean--tell him------ Oh, there's no false pride about me. |