The Colonel was not animated after this piece of gaiety, as he used to be in former days; it seemed to have depressed him, and he complained of slight cold. Mrs. O'Toole was woefully disappointed to find that there was "ne'er a lord, nor even an honourable, good or bad, at the party."
"To think iv yer playin' an' singin' for the likes iv thim!" she exclaimed, indignantly.
"What have I said to make you think so contemptuously of the very respectable people, amongst whom we have spent (I confess) 'a rather slow evening,' as my eloquent partner would term it?"
"Och no matther, sure it's thim that's the only quolity goin' now; well, niver mind, Miss Kate, we'll lave thim all yet."
"I hope so," sighed Kate.
CHAPTER VII.
LETTERS.
The next morning, just as Kate was preparing to write a long letter to the Winters, one from the kind-hearted little artist was put into her hand. It was sealed with black wax, and announced the death of poor Gilpin. He had suffered a good deal; but, towards the last, fell into a calm, sweet sleep, out of which he suddenly awoke with a look of bright happiness, such as they had never seen on his face before, as if had heard a summons inaudible to their ears.