“Alas, alas!” exclaimed the poor father, “I have no hope; after such a length of time I am indeed without a shadow of expectation. If unfortunate Reilly were here, indeed her seeing him, as that Sligo doctor told me, might give her a chance. He saw her about a week before we came down, and those were his words. But as for Reilly, even if he were in the country, how could I look him in the face? What wouldn't I give now that he were here, that Helen was well, and that one word of mine could make them man and wife?”
“Well, well,” she replied, “don't be cast down; perhaps I could tell you good news if I wished.”
“You're beating about the bush, Mary, at all events,” said her husband, laughing.
“Perhaps, now, Mr. Folliard,” she continued, “I could introduce a young lady who is so fond of you, old and ugly as you are, that she would not hesitate to kiss you tenderly, and cry with delight on your bosom you old thief.”
They both started at her words with amazement, and her husband said: “Egad, Alick, Helen's malady seems catching. What the deuce do you mean, Molly? or must I, too, send for a doctor?”
“Shall I introduce you to the lady, though?” she proceeded, addressing the father; “but remember that, if I do, you must be a man, Mr. Folliard!”
“In God's name! do what you like,” said Mr. Hamilton, “but do it at once.”
She went upstairs, and said, “As I do not wish to bring your father up, Helen, until he is prepared for a meeting with Mr. Reilly, I will bring you down to him. The sight of you now will give him new life.”
“Oh, come, then,” said Helen, “bring me to my father; do not lose a moment, not a moment—oh, let me see him instantly!”
The poor old man suspected something. “For a thousand!” said he, “this is some good news about Helen!”