“Never fear! She’s not half as silly as they say; and do you think I’d let her be about if there was any chance at all of her frightening you?”
“What is she like? Is she an old woman?”—ignoring the reproachful warmth of this last observation.
“Is it old Moll Hourihane? She’s as old as two men—or she looks it, anyhow. She used to be my nurse till she went off her head.”
“I thought you said her name was Brian,” I said.
“That’s only her husband’s name. The women mostly stick to their own names in this country when they’re married.”
“And you’re quite sure she’s not dangerous?” I said, feeling only half reassured.
“No more than I am myself”—with a glance to see if I were going to contradict this assertion. “She has a sort of dumb madness—like a hound, you know—and she’ll never speak; though I dare say after all that’s no great loss,” he concluded.
I was by this time feeling very sleepy, and hoping I should soon be able to escape to my own room, when the door opened, and my uncle came solemnly in.
“I have come, Theodora, my dear, to suggest an early retirement on your part.”
He avoided looking at Willy, and I felt that the effects of my ill-timed remarks at dinner had not yet died out. He looked haggard and troubled, and a sudden pity and sense of kinship impelled me to raise my cheek towards him as he took my hand to say good night. He stooped his head as if to kiss me, but checked himself, and after an instant of hesitation his moustache touched my forehead.