“He may have done so,” answered she, sadly, “for he locked his door and read over his letters by himself. When I saw him next, he was standing at the window, and beckoning to me.”
A gentle tap at the door here interrupted the colloquy, and the old housekeeper whispered, “The master, miss, wants to spake with the doctor; he's better now.”
“Oh, let me see him,” cried Mary, springing towards the door. But Dr. Tiernay interposed gently, and said, “No, this might prove dangerous; remain here till I have seen and spoken with him.” Mary assented by a gesture, and sat down without speaking.
“Sit down, Tiernay,” said the sick man, as the doctor came to his bedside,—“sit down, and let me speak while I have strength. Everything is against us, Tiernay. We are not to get the renewal; this young Mr. Cashel wants the cottage,—we must turn out. I'll have to do so, even before the gale-day; but what matter about me! It 's that poor child I 'm thinking of—” Here he stopped, and was some minutes before he could resume. “There,—read that; that will tell you all.”
Tiernay took the crumpled letter, which the old man had all this while held firmly in his closed grasp, and read it.
“Well, that 's bad news, is n't it?” said Corrigan. “Not the bill,—I don't mean that; but he 's coming back; do you see the threat?—he's coming back again.”
“How can he?” said the doctor. “The man committed a forgery. How will he dare to return here and place his neck in a halter?”
“You forget whose evidence alone can convict him,—mine; the name he forged was mine, the sum he took was mine,—nearly all I had in the world; but he has nothing to fear from me, whatever I may have to dread from him.”
“How can he have any terror for you!”
“He can take her away,—not from me, for she 'll soon be separated by a stronger hand than his; but I can't bear to think that she 'll be in his power. Tiernay, this is what is cutting into my heart now as I lie here, and leaves me no rest to think of the brief minutes before me. Tell me, is there no way to avoid this? Think of something, my old friend,—take this weight off my dying heart, and my last breath will bless you.”