“'Twas only the more like all remedies for Irish grievances, then,” observed Dal ton, and his face grew a shade graver as he spoke.
“Who was it this Onslow married?” said the Colonel, turning to Jekyl.
“One of the Headworths, I think.”
“Ah, to be sure; Lady Hester. She was a handsome woman when I saw her first, but she fell off sadly; and indeed, if she had not, she 'd scarcely have condescended to an alliance with a man in trade, even though he were Sir Gilbert Stafford.”
“Sir Gilbert Stafford!” repeated Dalton.
“Yes, sir; and now Sir Gilbert Stafford Onslow. He took the name from that estate in Warwickshire; Skepton Park, I believe they call it.”
“By my conscience, I wish that was the only thing he took,” ejaculated Dalton, with a degree of fervor that astonished the others, “for he took an elegant estate that belonged by right to my wife. Maybe you have heard tell of Corrig-O'Neal?”
Haggerstone shook his head, while with his elbow he nudged his companion, to intimate his total disbelief in the whole narrative.
“Surely you must have heard of the murder of Arthur Godfrey, of Corrig-O'Neal; was n't the whole world ringing with it?”
Another negative sign answered this appeal.