“I saw Lord Cullamore in the early part of the day,” replied Dean Palmer, “and he told me to say, that it was his wish you should see him; he added, that he felt it was a last request.”
“I shall see him,” replied the generous girl, “instantly; for his lordship's sake I shall see him, although I cannot conceive for what purpose Lord Dunroe can wish it.”
“It is sufficient, Miss Gourlay, that you consent to see him. He is below in my carriage; shall I bring him up?”
“Do so, sir. I am going to prevail, if I can, on papa, to take a composing draught, which the doctors have ordered him. I shall return again in a few minutes.”
Sir Thomas Gourlay had got up some hours before, and was seated in an armchair as she entered.
“How do you feel now, papa?” she asked, with the utmost affection and tenderness; “oh, do not be depressed; through all changes of life your Lucy's affections will be with you.”
“Lucy,” said he, “come and kiss me.”
In a moment her arms were about his neck, and she whispered encouragingly, whilst caressing him, “Papa, now that I have not been thrust down that fearful abyss, believe me, we shall be very happy yet.”
He gave her a long look; then shook his head, but did not speak.
“Endeavor to keep up your spirits, dearest papa; you seem depressed, but that is natural after what you have suffered. Will you take the composing draught? It will relieve you.”