“Well, you will have time to look at this book before you go,” he answered, turning over its leaves with a sort of suppressed eagerness. “This now, do you remember showing me this?” He held the book towards me, and I saw that it was the old volume of “The Turf, the Chase, and the Road,” which my father had given him, and he and I had once before looked over together. “That is a long time ago now.”
“Yes,” I replied, glad to find that he was so easy to talk to; “I can hardly believe that it is only three months since I came.”
He looked fearfully ill and wasted; he was shaking from head to foot, and his restless, bloodshot eyes kept wandering from the book to the trees outside. Whatever Dr. Kelly might say, I was certain that he was much worse than he had even been last night. I could not pretend to myself that I was fond of him; but after all, now that Willy was gone, I was practically the only relation he had left in the world, and I felt more and more that it would be heartless of me to go away and leave him in such a state.
He did not appear to notice what I had said, and I went on—
“I don’t really care about going to the Burkes’ in the least, Uncle Dominick. I would quite as soon stay with you, if you would like me to.”
“Stay with me! What do you mean?” he said, with some surprise, slipping the book into the wide pocket of his dressing-gown. “You only came last night—or was it the night before?—and, of course, you must stay. You will have to attend the old man’s funeral. You know”—with a low laugh—“they all think that you were buried in Cork; but you’re not, you know—you’re not.”
He had laid his trembling hand on my wrist to emphasize what he said, and I was afraid to move.
“No, do not go,” he went on, his voice getting more and more hurried. “I want you to see about that fallen tree. They cannot possibly get the hearse up to the door while it is there. Why are you looking so frightened, Owen? She is not here. You know, you were very ill when you came, and I had to get her to look after you. She was looking in through the window a little time ago; but Roche hunted her away, and she can’t do you any harm now.”
I was almost too terrified by this time to be able to conceal my fear; but I said, as calmly as I could—
“I am not afraid of her. I think it is time for me to go now; let me send Roche to you.”