Miss Vernon rose, and opening the door, admitted Cormac, who testified his joy at beholding his master, in a quiet, subdued manner, and the Colonel welcomed his faithful follower with a warmth, that Kate feared would be too much for his strength, stroking the dog's head, feebly, from time to time, and gazing at him abstractedly, as if his spirit had flown back to the scenes and time, when he was still vigorous, and Cormac gambolled with all the vivacity of youth. Now the old hound sat grave and still, his dull, filmy eye returning his master's gaze; and Kate suppressed the deep sighs which rose from her heart, as she saw these old companions, side by side, thus changed, thus sinking in the unequal conflict with time and adversity! And behind them memory raised the dark curtain of the present, and the bright, happy past broke forth with more than its pristine freshness; she saw those two languid forms, instinct with life, glowing with animation; she heard her grandfather's clear musical laugh, ring forth as he sprang upon his favourite horse, and held him steady with a powerful hand; she heard the hound's deep, joyous bark, as, after a few gambols round the impatient horse, he bounded forward in a swift and sudden race, only to return with headlong speed; she saw her grandfather's stately form, with those of his high-born, gay companions, sweep round a bend of the avenue, and as the sound of their voices and the tramp of their horses died away in the distance, she heard the dash and roar of the restless Atlantic against the cliffs; she saw the park-like lawn, the stately wood, the bold, blue hills and—a faint voice, like the echo of her grandfather's, from another world recalled her to the present.
"Give Cormac, poor fellow, some bread and milk before he goes away."
A few days passed, and still no letter. One evening, pleased to see the Colonel sleeping peacefully in his chair, Kate dropped her work and gave herself up to reverie. She had hardly had time to think of Fred. Egerton's letter, and the tone of warm remembrance it breathed.
"I wonder shall I ever see him again! Ah, no, what folly to think of it! Yet if he was here, he would give grandpapa hope and courage, and to me! He is so bright and strong. But thank God his letter came, with its cheering words, just when I most wanted something to raise my heart a little! Nurse thinks he will come back, but that is only a dream; and, after all, if he did, it would make no difference to me!"
Her thoughts rambled on in this way for some time, over many a varied topic, till she was roused by Cormac's very unusual efforts to gain admittance without leave. "Well come in, good dog, but be quiet," and the hound immediately placed himself by his master's chair; and Kate was speaking to him in a low voice, when the postman's knock, they had so long guarded against, but did not expect at that unaccustomed hour, shook the frail walls of the habitation, and Kate rose from her chair, trembling for her grandfather.
He woke suddenly, startled, but not so much as Kate had feared, and at the same moment nurse entered with a letter.
"From Georgina," cried Kate, opening it with trembling haste; she read aloud.
"'Good heavens, dearest Kate, how unfortunate that I should have come here.'
"She writes from Lucca.