John Bull's Other Island eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 150 pages of information about John Bull's Other Island.

John Bull's Other Island eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 150 pages of information about John Bull's Other Island.

Broadbent.  Yes:  that’s the truth. [She gives a sigh of relief]. 
You’re glad of that?

Nora [up in arms at once].  Glad indeed!  Why should I be glad?  As we’ve waited eighteen years for him we can afford to wait a day longer, I should think.

Broadbent.  If you really feel like that about him, there may be a chance for another man yet.  Eh?

Nora [deeply offended].  I suppose people are different in England, Mr Broadbent; so perhaps you don’t mean any harm.  In Ireland nobody’d mind what a man’d say in fun, nor take advantage of what a woman might say in answer to it.  If a woman couldn’t talk to a man for two minutes at their first meeting without being treated the way you’re treating me, no decent woman would ever talk to a man at all.

Broadbent.  I don’t understand that.  I don’t admit that.  I am sincere; and my intentions are perfectly honorable.  I think you will accept the fact that I’m an Englishman as a guarantee that I am not a man to act hastily or romantically, though I confess that your voice had such an extraordinary effect on me just now when you asked me so quaintly whether I was making love to you—­

Nora [flushing] I never thought—­

BROADHHNT [quickly].  Of course you didn’t.  I’m not so stupid as that.  But I couldn’t bear your laughing at the feeling it gave me.  You—­[again struggling with a surge of emotion] you don’t know what I—­ [he chokes for a moment and then blurts out with unnatural steadiness] Will you be my wife?

Nora [promptly].  Deed I won’t.  The idea! [Looking at him more carefully] Arra, come home, Mr Broadbent; and get your senses back again.  I think you’re not accustomed to potcheen punch in the evening after your tea.

Broadbent [horrified].  Do you mean to say that I—­I—­I—­my God! that I appear drunk to you, Miss Reilly?

Nora [compassionately].  How many tumblers had you?

Broadbent [helplessly].  Two.

Nora.  The flavor of the turf prevented you noticing the strength of it.  You’d better come home to bed.

Broadbent [fearfully agitated].  But this is such a horrible doubt to put into my mind—­to—­to—­For Heaven’s sake, Miss Reilly, am I really drunk?

Nora [soothingly].  You’ll be able to judge better in the morning.  Come on now back with me, an think no more about it. [She takes his arm with motherly solicitude and urges him gently toward the path].

Broadbent [yielding in despair].  I must be drunk—­frightfully drunk; for your voice drove me out of my senses [he stumbles over a stone].  No:  on my word, on my most sacred word of honor, Miss Reilly, I tripped over that stone.  It was an accident; it was indeed.

Nora.  Yes, of course it was.  Just take my arm, Mr Broadbent, while we’re goin down the path to the road.  You’ll be all right then.

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Project Gutenberg
John Bull's Other Island from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.