“Mr. Grogan is well,” replied the visitor; “a little stiff in the joints now; but he is a rich man, and rides in his carriage.”
“Great fathers! to think of that now. Faix, ’tis no wonder as all the Grogans have gone afther him to America! And Miss Nora was the darlin’ girl. Is she changed?”
“Yes. Who would not be in thirty years? She is grey and wrinkled, but I think her heart is young still. And now I see the rain has stopped, and I must be going.”
“But won’t ye condescend to a cup of tea, ma’am? Mary will wet it in a brace of shakes. It’s good tay—Lynche’s—and has a fine grip of the water. I’d like ye to tell Miss Nora ye had a cup of tay with old Katty. She will remember Katty, I’ll go bail.”
“I really must be moving, thank you—I’ll maybe look in again; but if your gal here will set me on my road, I’ll be obliged to her.”
“To be sure, ma’am, with a heart and a half,” said Mary, as she took a shawl and threw it over her head, and then led the way down the path to the gate, and into the main road.
Mary and her guide had a most interesting talk, so much so that they scarcely felt the time passing—the American putting clever questions to the girl, the girl, ever greedy of information, eagerly cross-examining her companion respecting “the sort of life over there”; and they were mutually astonished when they found themselves at the entrance of the “Glenveigh Arms.”
Ulick Doran had lost no time in preparing his mother for a visit from his aunt’s emissary; but Ulick’s friends, or discoveries, were rarely appreciated at Kilmoran. Mrs. Doran was proud of her youngest son’s good looks, good manners, and his horsemanship, precisely as she would be proud of a valuable piece of furniture which belonged to her exclusively. But the boy was too like his father; he reminded her at every look and turn of her life’s—well, she would not go so far as to call it remorse; but at any rate, she was not fond of Ulick. Her share of maternal affection was expended on Barker, and she was ashamed to admit to herself, that her indifference to her second son almost amounted to dislike. However, he was home now for six months’ leave, and she must just make the best of him.
“A woman who says she knows your aunt Nora,” she exclaimed, as she set down her glass of cheap sherry. “That is strange. And coming to see me. How did you come across her?”
“At Foley’s, at the corner.”