Explore "The Lost Galleon" by Katharine Tynan on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
It was not likely the old compact should be remembered except by Bridget, my nurse, and she had been present when my father and the Lord Fitzwalter had joined my baby hand and that of Lady Nesta; a jest of fine gentlemen over the wine, to be forgotten when the Considines of Doon had come low in the world, or to be remembered only by a fond old woman, and she half-crazed because of the misfortunes of those she served who were dearer to her than her own flesh and blood.
Of our misfortunes I will not speak. My father, Brian Considine, was at rest; and the bailiffs, who had become as familiar about the place as the crows of our old rookery, had winged their flight elsewhere. They had not troubled my father's last hours. God rest him! for I had bled myself and my name dry that every man should have his own, and none have cause to reproach him who was gone.