II. Owen Fitzgerald
III. Clara Desmond
IV. The Countess
V. The Fitzgeralds of Castle Richmond
VI. The Kanturk Hotel, South Main Street, Cork
VII. The Famine Year
VIII. Gortnaclough and Berryhill
IX. Family Councils
X. The Rector of Drumbarrow and his Wife
XI. Second Love
XII. Doubts
XIII. Mr. Mollett returns to South Main Street
XIV. The Rejected Suitor
XV. Diplomacy
XVI. The Path beneath the Elms
XVII. Father Barney
XVIII. The Relief Committee
XIX. The Friend of the Family
XX. Two Witnesses
XXI. Fair Arguments
XXII. The Telling of the Tale
XXIII. Before Breakfast at Hap House
XXIV. After Breakfast at Hap House
XXV. A Muddy Walk on a Wet Morning
XXVI. Comfortless
XXVII. Comforted
XXVIII. For a’ that and a’ that
XXIX. Ill News flies Fast
XXX. Pallida Mors
XXXI. The First Month
XXXII. Preparations for Going
XXXIII. The Last Stage
XXXIV. Farewell
XXXV. Herbert Fitzgerald in London
XXXVI. How the Earl was won
XXXVII. A Tale of a Turbot
XXXVIII. Condemned
XXXIX. Fox-hunting in Spinny Lane
XL. The Fox in his Earth
XLI. The Lobby of the House of Commons
XLII. Another Journey
XLIII. Playing Rounders
XLIV. Conclusion
THE BARONY OF DESMOND
I wonder whether the novel-reading world—that
part of it, at least, which may honour my pages-will
be offended if I lay the plot of this story in Ireland!
That there is a strong feeling against things Irish
it is impossible to deny. Irish servants need
not apply; Irish acquaintances are treated with limited
confidence; Irish cousins are regarded as being decidedly
dangerous; and Irish stories are not popular with
the booksellers.
For myself, I may say that if I ought to know anything
about any place, I ought to know something about Ireland;
and I do strongly protest against the injustice of
the above conclusions. Irish cousins I have none.
Irish acquaintances I have by dozens; and Irish friends,
also, by twos and threes, whom I can love and cherish—almost
as well, perhaps, as though they had been born in
Middlesex. Irish servants I have had some in my
house for years, and never had one that was faithless,
dishonest, or intemperate. I have travelled all
over Ireland, closely as few other men can have done,
and have never had my portmanteau robbed or my pocket
picked. At hotels I have seldom locked up my
belongings, and my carelessness has never been punished.
I doubt whether as much can be said for English inns.
