[Valentine M’Clutchy, The Irish Agent by William Carleton]@TWC D-Link book
Valentine M’Clutchy, The Irish Agent

CHAPTER VIII
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Neither spoke much, for in truth each had enough to do in combating with the toil and peril of the journey, as well as in thinking of the melancholy scene to which they were hastening.

Words of consolation and comfort he did from time to time utter; but he felt that his situation was one of difficulty.

To inspire hope where there was probably no hope, might be only to deepen her affliction; and, on the other hand, to weigh down a heart already heavy laden by unnecessarily adding one gloomy forboding to its burthen, was not in his nature.

Such comfort as he could give without bearing too strongly upon either her hopes or her fears he did give; and we do not think that an apostle, had he been in his place, could or ought to have done more.
They had now arrived within half a mile of the moor, when they felt themselves overtaken by a man whose figure was of a very singular and startling description, being apparently as wild and untamed as the barren waste on which he made his appearance.

He was actually two or three inches above the common height, but in addition to this fact, and as if not satisfied with it, he wore three hats, one sheathed a little into the other, so that they could not readily separate, and the under one he kept always fastened to his head, in order to prevent the whole pyramid from falling off.


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