The old lady stopped, with her hand on the handle of the door, to draw a full breath, and regain a calm look; but a merry laugh from Tony, as he sat reading his letter, did more to rally her, though her heart smote her to think how soon she might have to throw a shadow across his sunshine.
“Who's your letter from, Tony?” said she, dryly.
“From Skeffy; he 'll be here to-morrow; he's to arrive at Coleraine by six in the morning, and wants me to meet him there.”
“And what's the other sealed note in your hand?”
“This?—this is from another man,—a fellow you've never heard of; at least, you don't know him.”
“And what may be his name, Tony?” asked she, in a still colder tone.
“He's a stranger to you, mother. Skeffy found the note at my hotel, and forwarded it,—that's all.”
“You were n't wont to have secrets from me, Tony,” said she, tremulously.
“Nor have I, mother; except it may be some trifling annoyance or worry that I don't care to tease you about. If I had anything heavier on my mind, you may trust me, I 'd very soon be out with it.”
“But I 'm not to hear who this man is?” said she, with a strange pertinacity.