“And good news it’ll be for him,” said Mrs Kelly; “the best he heard since the ould man died. Av he had his will of her, she’d niver rise from the bed where she’s stretched. But, glory be to God, there’s a providence over all, and maybe she’ll live yet to give him the go-by.”
“How you talk, mother,” said Martin; “and what’s the use? Whatever he wishes won’t harum her; and maybe, now she’s dying, his heart’ll be softened to her. Any way, don’t let him have to say she died here, without his hearing a word how bad she was.”
“Maybe he’d be afther saying we murdhered her for her money,” said the widow, with a shudder.
“He can hardly complain of that, when he’ll be getting all the money himself. But, however, it’s much betther, all ways, that Doctor Colligan should see him.”
“You know, Mrs Kelly,” said the Doctor, “as a matter of course he’ll be asking to see his sister.”
“You wouldn’t have him come in here to her, would you?—Faix, Doctor Colligan, it’ll be her death out right at once av he does.”
“It’d not be nathural, to refuse to let him see her,” said the Doctor; “and I don’t think it would do any harm: but I’ll be guided by you, Mrs Kelly, in what I say to him.”
“Besides,” said Martin, “I know Anty would wish to see him: he is her brother; and there’s only the two of ’em.”
“Between you be it,” said the widow; “I tell you I don’t like it. You neither of you know Barry Lynch, as well as I do; he’d smother her av it come into his head.”
“Ah, mother, nonsense now; hould your tongue; you don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Well; didn’t he try to do as bad before?”
“It wouldn’t do, I tell you,” continued Martin, “not to let him see her; that is, av Anty wishes it.”
It ended in the widow being sent into Anty’s room, to ask her whether she had any message to send to her brother. The poor girl knew how ill she was, and expected her death; and when the widow told her that Doctor Colligan was going to call on her brother, she said that she hoped she should see Barry once more before all was over.
“Mother,” said Martin, as soon as the Doctor’s back was turned, “you’ll get yourself in a scrape av you go on saying such things as that about folk before strangers.”
“Is it about Barry?”
“Yes; about Barry. How do you know Colligan won’t be repating all them things to him?”
“Let him, and wilcome. Shure wouldn’t I say as much to Barry Lynch himself? What do I care for the blagguard?—only this, I wish I’d niver heard his name, or seen his foot over the sill of the door. I’m sorry I iver heard the name of the Lynches in Dunmore.”
“You’re not regretting the throuble Anty is to you, mother?”
“Regretting? I don’t know what you mane by regretting. I don’t know is it regretting to be slaving as much and more for her than I would for my own, and no chance of getting as much as thanks for it.”