About a week previous to his dissolution, and early in the evening a noise was heard at the hall door resembling the shearing of sheep; but at the time no particular attention was paid to it. It was nearly eleven o’clock the same night, when Kavanagh, the herdsman, returned from Mallow, whither he had been sent in the afternoon for some medicine, and was observed by Miss Bunworth, to whom he delivered the parcel, to be much agitated. At this time, it must be observed, her father was by no means considered in danger.
“What is the matter, Kavanagh?” asked Miss Bunworth: but the poor fellow, with a bewildered look, only uttered, “The master, Miss—the master—he is going from us;” and, overcome with real grief, he burst into a flood of tears.
Miss Bunworth, who was a woman of strong nerve, inquired if any thing he had learned in Mallow induced him to suppose that her father was worse. “No, Miss,” said Kavanagh; “it was not in Mallow——”
“Kavanagh,” said Miss Bunworth, with that stateliness of manner for which she is said to have been remarkable, “I fear you have been drinking, which, I must say, I did not expect at such a time as the present, when it was your duty to have kept yourself sober;—I thought you might have been trusted:—what should we have done if you had broken the medicine bottle, or lost it? for the doctor said it was of the greatest consequence that your master should take the medicine to-night. But I will speak to you in the morning, when you are in a fitter state to understand what I say.”
Kavanagh looked up with a stupidity of aspect which did not serve to remove the impression of his being drunk, as his eyes appeared heavy and dull after the flood of tears;—but his voice was not that of an intoxicated person.
“Miss,” said he, “as I hope to receive mercy hereafter, neither bit nor sup has passed my lips since I left this house; but the master——”
“Speak softly,” said Miss Bunworth; “he sleeps, and is going on as well as we could expect.”
“Praise be to God for that, any way,” replied Kavanagh; “but oh! Miss, he is going from us surely—we will lose him—the master—we will lose him, we will lose him!” and he wrung his hands together.
“What is it you mean, Kavanagh?” asked Miss Bunworth.