“And I’ve done my duty as a brother to try and find her.”
“Yes, Tom, my boy, you have—you have.”
“Some day she’ll wake up out of her mad dream, and come back to us, and then, no matter what is said, she must find a home.”
“Of course, my boy, of course.”
“Poor girl! It’s all our fault, governor. If we had been firm she might have married Charley Melton.”
“Eh,” said Lord Barmouth, “Charley Melton? Yes, my boy, I wish she had. I—I wonder whether she has gone,” thought the old man. “Oh dear me, I’m very tired.”
“Did you speak, gov’nor?” said Tom.
“Yes, my boy, I said I was very tired.”
“Then come along and let’s feed. We’ll have a bottle of that red wine, and enjoy ourselves till the old lady comes, and then, governor—”
“You think we shan’t enjoy ourselves any more, Tom?”