“To see me, of course,” said Luke.
“Well, yes, my boy, I did; but you—you haven’t the heart to come down?”
Luke shook his head.
“Do you—do you think,”—the old man held his son’s hand in both his own, and looked timidly in his face, “do you think about her still, my boy?”
“Every day, father,” said the young man, sternly. “I always shall.”
“Yes, yes, my boy. That is why I came up. I came to tell you, my boy: she’s in very great trouble.”
“Trouble!” said Luke, quickly; and his voice sounded hoarse and strange—“again?”
“Yes, yes, my boy. I knew you would like to know.”
Luke snatched his hand away, and paced up and down the room several times before stopping in front of the old man once more. “Has—has she been down, father?”
“Yes, my boy, she came down with her two little girls.”