The travellers did not leave till after an early dinner, and the long, desolate evening, its usual occupations broken in upon and deranged, dragged its weary length slowly by, though the Colonel, by a brave effort, seemed more cheerful than usual, and talked of Paris, and the people he had known there, and of Bordeaux, and how the claret used to be smuggled into the west of Ireland, of Hoche, and of the French invasion. And Mrs. O'Toole brought in her work, and both endeavoured to keep up their darling's heart.
She could only remember that it was the anniversary of Egerton's departure for India, and that to-morrow she was to give an early lesson to her new pupils.
"Good night, dearest grandpapa, and do not forget to take your bottle, you coughed a great deal to-day."
CHAPTER IX.
TRIALS.
Before entreating the reader to imagine the lapse of some months, unbroken by any event, we must record one which was a fertile theme of conversation and conjecture to our recluses. Kate was met by Mrs. O'Toole, almost at the garden gate, one morning, about a fortnight after the Winters had left them, as she returned from her daily perambulations.
"Och! come in, Agra! sure there's great news entirely! there's the Captin's been murthuring all afore him, in Ingee, an' such a tundherin' battle! the masther's tired waitin' for ye."
"What's all this nurse is telling me, grandpapa?"