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    No Defense, Volume 2.
    No Defense, Volume 2.
    No Defense, Volume 2.
    Ebook69 pages1 hour

    No Defense, Volume 2.

    By Gilbert Parker

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    About this ebook

    Gilbert Parker was a late 19th and early 20th century politician and novelist who wrote prodigiously. The British-Canadian's works are still popular in the 21st century.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherKrill Press
    Release dateFeb 11, 2016
    ISBN9781508080916
    No Defense, Volume 2.
    Author

    Gilbert Parker

    Gilbert Parker (1862–1932), also credited as Sir Horatio Gilbert George Parker, 1st Baronet, was a Canadian novelist and British politician. His initial career was in education, working in various schools as a teacher and lecturer. He then traveled abroad to Australia where he became an editor at the Sydney Morning Herald. He expanded his writing to include long-form works such as romance fiction. Some of his most notable titles include Pierre and his People (1892), The Seats of the Mighty and The Battle of the Strong.

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      Book preview

      No Defense, Volume 2. - Gilbert Parker

      NO DEFENSE, VOLUME 2.

      ..................

      Gilbert Parker

      YURITA PRESS

      Thank you for reading. In the event that you appreciate this book, please consider sharing the good word(s) by leaving a review, or connect with the author.

      This book is a work of fiction; its contents are wholly imagined.

      All rights reserved. Aside from brief quotations for media coverage and reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced or distributed in any form without the author’s permission. Thank you for supporting authors and a diverse, creative culture by purchasing this book and complying with copyright laws.

      Copyright © 2016 by Gilbert Parker

      Interior design by Pronoun

      Distribution by Pronoun

      TABLE OF CONTENTS

      CHAPTER X

      CHAPTER XI

      CHAPTER XII

      CHAPTER XIII

      CHAPTER XIV

      CHAPTER XV

      No Defense, Volume 2.

      By

      Gilbert Parker

      No Defense, Volume 2.

      Published by Yurita Press

      New York City, NY

      First published circa 1932

      Copyright © Yurita Press, 2015

      All rights reserved

      Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

      About YURITA Press

      Yurita Press is a boutique publishing company run by people who are passionate about history’s greatest works. We strive to republish the best books ever written across every conceivable genre and making them easily and cheaply available to readers across the world.

      CHAPTER X

      ..................

      IS IT NEAR THE TIME? asked Michael Clones of his friend, as they stood in front of the prison.

      His companion, who was seated on a stone, wrapped in dark-green coverings faded and worn, and looking pinched with cold in the dour November day, said, without lifting his head:

      Seven minutes, an’ he’ll be out, God bless him! And save him and protect him! said Michael. He deserved punishment no more than I did, and it’s broke him. I’ve seen the grey gather at his temples, though he’s only been in prison four years. He was condemned to eight, but they’ve let him free, I don’t know why. Perhaps it was because of what he told the government about the French navy. I’ve seen the joy of life sob itself down to the sour earth. When I took him the news of his father’s death, and told him the creditors were swallowing what was left of Playmore, what do you think he did?

      Old Christopher Dogan smiled; his eyes twinkled with a mirth which had more pain than gaiety. God love you, I know what he did. He flung out his hands, and said: ‘Let it go! It’s nothing to me.’ Michael, have I said true?

      Michael nodded.

      "Almost his very words you’ve used, and he flung out his hands, as you said.

      Aye, he’ll be changed; but they’ve kept the clothes he had when he went to prison, and he’ll come out in them, I’m thinking—

      Ah, no! interrupted Michael. That can’t be, for his clothes was stole. Only a week ago he sent to me for a suit of my own. I wouldn’t have him wear my clothes—he a gentleman! It wasn’t fitting. So I sent him a suit I bought from a shop, but he wouldn’t have it. He would leave prison a poor man, as a peasant in peasant’s clothes. So he wrote to me. Here is the letter. He drew from his pocket a sheet of paper, and spread it out. See-read it. Ah, well, never mind, he added, as old Christopher shook his head. Never mind, I’ll read it to you! Thereupon he read the note, and added: We’ll see him of the Calhouns risin’ high beyant poverty and misfortune some day.

      Old Christopher nodded.

      I’m glad Miles Calhoun was buried on the hilltop above Playmore. He had his day; he lived his life. Things went wrong with him, and he paid the price we all must pay for work ill-done.

      "There you’re right, Christopher Dogan, and I remember the day the downfall began. It was when him that’s now Lord Mallow, Governor of Jamaica, came to summon Miles Calhoun to Dublin. Things were never the same after that; but I well remember one talk I had with Miles Calhoun just before his death. ‘Michael,’ he said to me, ‘my family have had many ups and downs, and some that bear my name have been in prison before this, but never for killing a man out of fair fight.’ ‘One of your name may be in prison, sir,’ said I, ‘but not for killing a man out of fair fight. If you believe he did, there’s no death bad enough for you!’ He was silent for a while; then at last he whispered Mr. Dyck’s name, and said to me: ‘Tell him that as a Calhoun I love him, and as his father I love him ten times more. For look you, Michael, though we never ran together, but quarrelled and took our own paths, yet we are both Calhouns, and my heart is warm to him. If my son were

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