“Ay, and more. We have had a project this many a day—we can realize it now—to buy it out and out. And I 'm to build a cabin for myself by the river-side, where the swan's hut stood, and I 'm to be asked to dinner every Sunday.”
“By Jove, I think I'll run down by the rail for one of those dinners,” said Beattie; “but I certainly hope the company will have better appetites than my guests of to-day.”
“I am too happy to feel hungry,” said Lendrick. “If I only knew that my poor dear father could live to see us all united,—all together again, I 'd ask for no more in life.”
“And so he may, Tom; he was better this afternoon, and though weak and low, perfectly collected and sensible. Mrs. Sewell has been his nurse to-day, and she seems to manage him cleverly.”
“I saw her at the Cape. She was nicely mannered, and, if I remember aright, handsome,” said Lendrick, in his half-abstracted way.
“She was beautiful—perfectly beautiful—as a girl: except your own Lucy, I never saw any one so lovely,” said Fossbrooke, whose voice shook with emotion as he spoke.
“I wish she had better luck in a husband,” said Beattie. “For all his graceful address and insinuating ways, I 'm full sure he's a bad fellow.”
Fossbrooke checked himself with a great effort, and merely nodded an assent to the other's words.
“How came it, Sir Brook,” asked Beattie, suddenly, “that you should have been in Dublin so long without once coming to see me?”
“Are you very discreet?—may I be sure that neither of you will ever accidentally let drop a word of what I shall tell you?”