"Well, yes, madam," said the doctor, with evident reluctance.
"And what is it, may I ask?"
"I fear, madam, you will be offended."
"'Sdeath! man, go on!" she broke in passionately. "What sayeth the far-seeing, all-wise world of him?"
"'Tis said he has brought a wife with him from Europe, whom he wishes to conceal."
"Ha! ha!" laughed the lady, scornfully. "Yes, I heard it too—a barefooted bog-trotter, forsooth! But 'tis false, doctor! false, I tell you! You must contradict the report everywhere you hear it. That any one should dare to say that my son—my proud, handsome Barry—would marry a potato-eating Biddy! Oh! but for my indignation I could laugh at the utter absurdity."
But the fierce gleam of her eye, and the passionate clenching of her hand, bespoke her in anything but a laughing humor.
"I would not for worlds this report should reach Lizzie Erliston," she said, somewhat more calmly. "And speaking of her brings me back to her sister. Doctor, Esther Oranmore lies in yonder room."
He startled slightly, and glanced uneasily in the direction, but said nothing.
"Doctor," continued Mrs. Oranmore, in a low, stern, impressive voice, while her piercing eyes seemed reading his very soul, "she must never live to see the sun rise again!"