There was a turf fire blazing even on this hot June day in the Rector's study, and Maureen managed to step behind and whisper to Dominic, "I know. I didn't worry him by asking him. I told him stories instead. We've just got to be brave, Dom, boy, and keep his spirits up. We need not question about what we know. When I looked in his face, I felt that I could not utter a word, for his dear face told me. It was so very near the angels, so I had one good story which I told him, and I invented some more, and I vote that now we call Denis and Kitty and have some games and fun—not too noisy, you know—and I'll see the darling, darling Uncle to bed myself. He says I'm a born story-teller, but I think I'm a born nurse. He shall be in bed before old 'Step' comes back. I'll manage that."
About nine o'clock Mrs. O'Brien returned. Her cold sort of beauty, for she was still comparatively young, had a triumphant gleam in it on this occasion. She ate a large supper heartily, and did not once inquire about her husband's state of health. Some years ago, when her husband's cough troubled her, she arranged a large luxurious room on the first floor for herself, but he continued to sleep, when he could sleep at all, in the bare apartment where he had lived with such happiness with his first dear wife. In this room Dominic and Denis and Kitty were born. In this room the first Mrs. O'Brien had passed on into the Holy City.
On this special night something induced Constance O'Brien to go up to her husband's bedroom. He was dropping asleep as she bounced in.
"Well, old man," she said, "you may as well know the truth. Your own money, all your insurances, in fact, every penny you possess, will go to your children and to no one else at your death, be it to-day or be it to-morrow. This is owing to your marriage settlement. It is well I have money of my own. Murphy astonished me by telling me that there would be altogether about ten thousand pounds, including, of course, your private means, to divide among your three children. It is as well I have my own drop, which is a trifle more than that. Let me tell you, Patrick—take it as a night-cap—that you have behaved in the most disgraceful way to me; but, anyhow, I have the pleasure of informing you that you cannot touch one penny for Maureen. Yes, I have that pleasure, little spiteful interloper. I never could abide her."
"Good-night, Constance," said Patrick O'Brien, "and try, my wife, to keep your heart from hard thoughts. For, believe me, when you come to stand where I now stand—on the edge of the world—you will be glad, very glad, that you have done so."
Mrs. O'Brien, for reply, whisked away.
"The doctor certainly said he might last for years," she whispered under her breath. "If it only could be a little shorter! Anyhow, Maureen has nothing. Had I known that those children will be so well off and that he would not be able to leave me a penny, I would have taken precious good care never to marry him. But there! for his ten thousand pounds; I have at least fifty thousand, and I am young still, not quite forty. I shall do my best for my own girls, and even exaggerate a little with regard to their fortunes. Henrietta ought to turn out quite pretty, and Daisy has the most lovely hair I ever saw. Yes, they will both marry well; I'll see to that; and in all probability I shall myself marry again. I know I'm good-looking. Mrs. Rankin told me so this very day. It is a hard trial to be tied to a broken-down husband. I told her how ill he was. I think it well to spread these reports. He certainly doesn't look as though he'd live for years. Poor, stupid, old Pat. He thought to affect me with that story of his brother, but I am not that sort of woman, thank goodness."
Meanwhile another glorious summer day dawned on the world. Mr. O'Brien ordered the phaeton to be brought round at ten o'clock, and, accompanied by his young son Dominic, went to see Murphy, the well-known solicitor at Kingsala. Murphy received him with the affectionate, warm-hearted greeting which characterises good-tempered Irishmen. O'Brien put the whole case before him. Murphy listened attentively, tapping his heel now and then, and now and then giving a low, significant whistle under his breath. When the story had come to an end there was a complete silence between the two men for the space of a minute. Dominic, who was in the background and was not noticed at all, felt strangely uncomfortable, for he did not like the expression in Murphy's small shrewd eyes.
At last the solicitor spoke.
"I saw your good lady yesterday, Mr. O'Brien."