“This is a very great honor, sir,” said old Dan, as he appeared in a suit of decorous black. “It is, indeed, a proud day that gives me the pleasure of seeing you here.”
“My dear sir, if you had no other distinction than being the father of Joseph Nelligan, the honor and the pride lie all in the opposite scale. I am sincerely glad to be your guest, and to know you where every true Irishman is seen to the greatest advantage,—at the head of his own board.”
While Nelligan conducted his guest to his room, he mentioned that Massingbred had ridden over to Cro' Martin early in the morning, but would be certainly back for dinner.
“And what 's the news of Miss Martin? Is she better?”
“They say not, sir. The last accounts are far from favorable.”
“Sir Henry Laurie saw her, did n't he?”
“Yes, sir; he passed all Sunday here, and only returned to town yesterday. He spoke doubtfully,—I might even say, gloomily. He said, however, that we cannot know anything for certain before Friday or, perhaps, Saturday.”
“It is fever, then?”
“Yes, he told my wife, the worst character of typhus.”
“Brought on, as I've been told, by exposure to wet and cold on that night at sea. Is n't that the case?”