"He has been here to say that he's off for Derry to-night with the mail to meet Dolly."
"Yes, she's coming back; and the doctor cannot say why, for she's over that fever she had, and getting stronger every day; and yet she writes, 'You must come and fetch me from Derry, father, for I 'm coming home to you.' And the old man is sore distressed to make out whether she's ill again, or what's the meaning of it. And he thought, if he saw you, it was just possible you could tell him something."
"What could I tell him? Why should he imagine I could tell him?" said Tony, as a deep crimson flush covered his face.
"Only how she was looking, Tony, and whether you thought she seemed happy where she was living, and if the folk looked kind to her."
"I thought she looked very sickly, and the people about her--the woman at least--not over-kind. I'm not very sure, too, that Dolly herself was n't of my mind, though she did n't say so. Poor girl!"
"It's the poor old father I pity the most, Tony; he's not far off seventy, if he 's not over it; and sore work he finds it keeping body and soul together; and now he has the poor sick lassie come back to him, wanting many a little comfort, belike, that he can't afford her. Ah, dear! is n't there a deal of misery in this life?"
"Except for the rich," said Tony, with an almost savage energy. "They certainly have fine times of it. I saw that fellow, Maitland, about an hour ago, lolling beside Alice Lyle--Trafford, I mean, in her carriage, as if he owned the equipage and all it contained; and why? Just because he is rich."
"He's a fine handsome man, Tony, and has fine manners, and I would not call him a fellow."
"I would, then; and if he only gives me the chance, I 'll call him a harder name to his face."
"Tony, Tony, how can you speak so of one that wanted to befriend you?"
"Befriend me, mother! You make me ashamed to bear you say such a word. Befriend me!"
"What's the matter with you, Tony? You are not talking, no, nor looking like yourself. What's befallen you, my dear Tony? You went out this morning so gay and light-hearted, it made me cheery to see you. Ay, and I did what I 've not done for many a day, I sang to myself over my work without knowing it, and now you 're come back as dark as night. What's in it, my boy? tell your poor old mother. What's in it?"