She vividly remembered her father pointing out to her a certain
north-of-Ireland barrister who--on the strength of securing more
convictions under the "Crimes Act" than any other jurist in the
whole of Ireland--was rewarded with the Royal and Governmental
approval by having conferred on him the distinction and dignity of
knighthood. It was the crowning-point of his career. It has steadily
run through his life since as a thin flame of scarlet. He lives and
breathes "knighthood." He thinks and speaks it. He DEMANDS
recognition from his equals, even as he COMPELS it from his
inferiors. Her father told Peg that all the servants were drilled
carefully to call him--"Sir Edward."
His relations, unaccustomed through their drab lives to the usages
of the great, found extreme difficulty in acquiring the habit of
using the new appellation in the place of the nick-name of his
youth--"Ted." It was only when it was made a condition of being
permitted an audience with the gifted and honoured lawyer, that they
allowed their lips to meekly form the servile "Sir!" when addressing
their distinguished relation.
When he visited Dublin Castle to consult with his Chiefs, and any of
his old-time associates hailed him familiarly as "Ted!" a grieved
look would cross his semi-Scotch features, and he would hasten to
correct in his broad, coarse brogue: "Sir Edward, me friend! Be the
Grace of Her Majesty and the British Government--Sir Edward--if--ye
plaze!"
THERE was one who took pride in the use of his title.
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