“It may be so, beloved.”
Sheila swept her arms around her mother’s neck and drew the fine head to her breast.
At that moment they heard the clatter of hoofs, and presently they saw a horse and rider pass the window.
“It’s a government messenger, mother,” Sheila said.
As Sheila said, it was a government messenger, bearing a packet to Mrs. Llyn—a letter from her brother in America, whom she had not seen for many years.
The brother, Bryan Llyn, had gone out there as a young man before the Revolutionary War. He had prospered, taking sides against England in the war, and become a man of importance in the schemes of the new republican government. Only occasionally had letters come from him to his sister, and for nearly eleven years she had not had a single word from him.
When she opened the packet now, she felt it would help to solve—she knew not how—the trouble between herself and her daughter. The letter had been sent to a firm in Dublin with which Bryan Llyn had done business, with instructions that it should be forwarded to his sister. It had reached the hands of a government official, who was a brother of a member of the firm, and he had used the government messenger, who was going upon other business to Limerick, to forward it with a friendly covering note, which ended with the words:
The recent tragedy you have no doubt seen in the papers must have
shocked you; but to those who know the inside the end was
inevitable, though there are many who do not think Calhoun is
guilty. I am one of them. Nevertheless, it will go hard with him,
as the evidence is strong against him. He comes from your part of
the country, and you will be concerned, of course.
Sheila watched her mother reading, and saw that great emotion possessed her, though the girl could not know the cause. Presently, however, Mrs. Llyn, who had read the letter from her brother, made a joyful exclamation.
“What is it, mother dear?” Sheila asked eagerly. “Tell me!”