"Yes, my son, really."
"But I mean"—the boy's voice choked—"badly?"
"Yes, lad, very badly."
"Still, you may live for years."
"That's true. Now, avick, listen to me. Your step-mother will return from visiting Murphy to-night. I greatly fear she will do what mischief she can. I have a great dread over me, Dom; I can't quite explain it; but to-morrow you and I will go together and see the solicitor. Oh yes, I am quite well enough for that. I'll get the truth out of him, cost me what it may. I won't listen to a word of what she has got to say. We'll go early in the warm part of the day and find out for ourselves what can be done for Maureen."
"Dad, there never was your like before. We'll go, and we'll put things as right as possible; and now, would it at all comfort you to come out and lie on the periwinkles where Maureen is waiting, for she has heard a few words, nothing of any consequence, but they have troubled her, and her dear, brave little heart is almost breaking. She loves you so passionately."
"Yes, we'll go," said the Rector.
He rose very slowly, and, leaning on his son's arm, presently approached the spot where Maureen, wondering at the long delay, was sitting up and waiting. She had her hands clasped round her knees, and the tears which filled her eyes a short time ago had ceased to flow, for Maureen was not what she called a "cry-baby"; but the soft brown eyes were all the same full of wild fear. When she saw her uncle and cousin, however, she gave a glad exclamation, sprang to her feet, and ran forward to meet Uncle Pat.
"Oh, but this is heavenly," cried the child; "oh, but you have come to me your own self, you blessed darling." Then she and Dominic between them arranged the thick rug and the soft but shabby pillows, and the Rector lay down while Dominic with a bright nod to his little mate ran quickly away.
He crept into a disused old barn at the back of the house, and there he cried as few boys of his age do cry, silently, with a passion of sorrow, with an anguish of grief. He made no noise as the tears slowly rolled down over his cheeks, but the pain at his manly young heart was almost unbearable. Maureen! to treat her as the 'Step' would certainly treat her, and his most beloved father sooner or later to die. This was the first real touch of trouble that had come to the boy, and he felt that he could scarcely endure it.