Daly said nothing, though Barry paused for him to reply.  “Only about the form,” continued he, “I wouldn’t know what to put.  By heavens, Daly! you must come with me.  You can be up at the house, and I can have you down at a minute’s warning.”  Daly utterly declined, but Barry continued to press him.  “But you must, Daly; I tell you I know I’m right.  I know her so well—­she’ll do it at once for the sake—­for the sake of—­You know she is my own sister, and all that—­and she thinks so much of that kind of thing.  I’ll tell you what, Daly; upon my honour and soul,” and he repeated the words in a most solemn tone, “if you’ll draw the will, and she signs it, so that I come in for the whole thing—­and I know she will I’ll make over fifty—­ay, seventy pounds a year for you for ever and ever.  I will, as I live.”

The interview ended by the attorney turning Barry Lynch into the street, and assuring him that if he ever came into his office again, on any business whatsoever, he would unscrupulously kick him out.  So ended, also, the connexion between the two; for Daly never got a farthing for his labour.  Indeed, after all that had taken place, he thought it as well not to trouble his ci-devant client with a bill.  Barry went home, and of course got drunk.

When Doctor Colligan called on Lynch, he found that he was not at home.  He was at that very moment at Tuam, with the attorney.  The doctor repeated his visit later in the afternoon, but Barry had still not returned, and he therefore left word that he would call early after breakfast the following morning.  He did so; and, after waiting half an hour in the dining-room, Barry, only half awake and half dressed, and still half drunk, came down to him.

The doctor, with a long face, delivered his message, and explained to him the state in which his sister was lying; assured him that everything in the power of medicine had been and should be done; that, nevertheless, he feared the chance of recovery was remote; and ended by informing him that Miss Lynch was aware of her danger, and had expressed a wish to see him before it might be too late.  Could he make it convenient to come over just now—­in half an hour—­or say an hour?—­said the doctor, looking at the red face and unfinished toilet of the distressed brother.

Barry at first scarcely knew what reply to give.  On his return from Tuam, he had determined that he would at any rate make his way into his sister’s room, and, as he thought to himself, see what would come of it.  In his after-dinner courage he had further determined, that he would treat the widow and her family with a very high hand, if they dared to make objection to his seeing his sister; but now, when the friendly overture came from Anty herself, and was brought by one of the Kelly faction, he felt himself a little confounded, as though he rather dreaded the interview, and would wish to put it off for a day or two.

“Oh, yes—­certainly, Doctor Colligan; to be sure—­that is—­tell me, doctor, is she really so bad?”