It was not only to the Kellys that the idea occurred that Anty in her illness might make a will. The thoughts of such a catastrophe had robbed Barry of half the pleasure which the rumours of his sister's dangerous position had given him. He had not received any direct intimation of Anty's state, but had heard through the servants that she was ill--very ill--dangerously--"not expected," as the country people call it; and each fresh rumour gave him new hopes, and new life. He now spurned all idea of connexion with Martin; he would trample on the Kellys for thinking of such a thing: he would show Daly, when in the plenitude of his wealth and power, how he despised the lukewarmness and timidity of his councils. These and other delightful visions were floating through his imagination; when, all of a sudden, like a blow, like a thunderbolt, the idea of _a will_ fell as it were upon him with a ton weight. His heart sunk low within him; he became white, and his jaw dropped. After all, there were victory and triumph, plunder and wealth, _his_ wealth, in the very hands of his enemies! Of course the Kellys would force her to make a will, if she didn't do it of her own accord; if not, they'd forge one. There was some comfort in that thought: he could at any rate contest the will, and swear that it was a forgery.

He swallowed a dram, and went off, almost weeping to Daly.

"Oh, Mr Daly, poor Anty's dying: did you hear, Mr Daly--she's all but gone?" Yes; Daly had been sorry to hear that Miss Lynch was very ill.

"What shall I do," continued Barry, "if they say that she's left a will?"

"Go and hear it read. Or, if you don't like to do that yourself, stay away, and let me hear it."

"But they'll forge one! They'll make out what they please, and when she's dying, they'll make her put her name to it; or they'll only just put the pen in her hand, when she's not knowing what she's doing.

They'd do anything now, Daly, to get the money they've been fighting for so hard."

"It's my belief," answered the attorney, "that the Kellys not only won't do anything dishonest, but that they won't even take any unfair advantage of you. But at any rate you can do nothing. You must wait patiently; you, at any rate, can take no steps till she's dead."

"But couldn't she make a will in my favour? I know she'd do it if I asked her--if I asked her now--now she's going off, you know. I'm sure she'd do it. Don't you think she would?"

"You're safer, I think, to let it alone," said Daly, who could hardly control the ineffable disgust he felt.

"I don't know that," continued Barry. "She's weak, and 'll do what she's asked: besides, _they'll_ make her do it. Fancy if, when she's gone, I find I have to share everything with those people!" And he struck his forehead and pushed the hair off his perspiring face, as he literally shook with despair. "I must see her, Daly. I'm quite sure she'll make a will if I beg her; they can't hinder me seeing my own, only, dying sister; can they, Daly? And when I'm once there, I'll sit with her, and watch till it's all over. I'm sure, now she's ill, I'd do anything for her."

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 a.s.suring 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; a.s.sured 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?"

"Indeed, Mr Lynch, she is very weak."

"But, doctor, you don't think there is any chance--I mean, there isn't any danger, is there, that she'd go off at once?"

"Why, no, I don't think there is; indeed, I have no doubt she will hold out a fortnight yet."

"Then, perhaps, doctor, I'd better put it off till to-morrow; I'll tell you why: there's a person I wish--"

"Why, Mr Lynch, to-day would be better. The fever's periodical, you see, and will be on her again to-morrow--"

"I beg your pardon, Doctor Colligan," said Barry, of a sudden remembering to be civil,--"but you'll take a gla.s.s of wine?"

"Not a drop, thank ye, of anything."

"Oh, but you will;" and Barry rang the bell and had the wine brought.

"And you expect she'll have another attack to-morrow?"

"That's a matter of course, Mr Lynch; the fever'll come on her again to-morrow. Every attack leaves her weaker and weaker, and we fear she'll go off, before it leaves her altogether."

"Poor thing!" said Barry, contemplatively.

"We had her head shaved," said the doctor.

"Did you, indeed!" answered Barry. "She was my favourite sister, Doctor Colligan--that is, I had no other."

"I believe not," said Doctor Colligan, looking sympathetic.

"Take another gla.s.s of wine, doctor?--now do," and he poured out another b.u.mper.

"Thank'ee, Mr Lynch, thank'ee; not a drop more. And you'll be over in an hour then? I'd better go and tell her, that she may be prepared, you know," and the doctor returned to the sick room of his patient.

Barry remained standing in the parlour, looking at the gla.s.ses and the decanter, as though he were speculating on the manner in which they had been fabricated. "She may recover, after all," thought he to himself.

"She's as strong as a horse--I know her better than they do. I know she'll recover, and then what shall I do? Stand to the offer Daly made to Kelly, I suppose!" And then he sat down close to the table, with his elbow on it, and his chin resting on his hand; and there he remained, full of thought. To tell the truth, Barry Lynch had never thought more intensely than he did during those ten minutes. At last he jumped up suddenly, as though surprised at what had been pa.s.sing within himself; he looked hastily at the door and at the window, as though to see that he had not been watched, and then went upstairs to dress himself, preparatory to his visit to the inn.

XXIV. ANTY LYNCH'S BED-SIDE SCENE THE FIRST

Anty had borne her illness with that patience and endurance which were so particularly inherent in her nature. She had never complained; and had received the untiring attentions and care of her two young friends, with a warmth of affection and grat.i.tude which astonished them, accustomed as they had been in every little illness to give and receive that tender care with which sickness is treated in affectionate families. When ill, they felt they had a right to be petulant, and to complain; to exact, and to be attended to: they had been used to it from each other, and thought it an incidental part of the business. But Anty had hitherto had no one to nurse her, and she looked on Meg and Jane as kind ministering angels, emulous as they were to relieve her wants and ease her sufferings.

Her thin face had become thinner, and was very pale; her head had been shaved close, and there was nothing between the broad white border of her nightcap and her clammy brow and wan cheek. But illness was more becoming to Anty than health; it gave her a melancholy and beautiful expression of resignation, which, under ordinary circ.u.mstances, was wanting to her features, though not to her character. Her eyes were brighter than they usually were, and her complexion was clear, colourless, and transparent. I do not mean to say that Anty in her illness was beautiful, but she was no longer plain; and even to the young Kellys, whose feelings and sympathies cannot be supposed to have been of the highest order, she became an object of the most intense interest, and the warmest affection.

"Well, doctor," she said, as Doctor Colligan crept into her room, after the termination of his emba.s.sy to Barry; "will he come?"

"Oh, of course he will; why wouldn't he, and you wishing it? He'll be here in an hour, Miss Lynch. He wasn't just ready to come over with me."

"I'm glad of that," said Anty, who felt that she had to collect her thoughts before she saw him; and then, after a moment, she added, "Can't I take my medicine now, doctor?"

"Just before he comes you'd better have it, I think. One of the girls will step up and give it you when he's below. He'll want to speak a word or so to Mrs Kelly before he comes up."

"Spake to me, docthor!" said the widow, alarmed. "What'll he be spaking to me about? Faix, I had spaking enough with him last time he was here."

"You'd better just see him, Mrs Kelly," whispered the, doctor. "You'll find him quiet enough, now; just take him fair and asy; keep him downstairs a moment, while Jane gives her the medicine. She'd better take it just before he goes to her, and don't let him stay long, whatever you do. I'll be back before the evening's over; not that I think that she'll want me to see her, but I'll just drop in."

"Are you going, doctor?" said Anty, as he stepped up to the bed. He told her he was. "You've told Mrs Kelly, haven't you, that I'm to see Barry alone?"

"Why, I didn't say so," said the doctor, looking at the widow; "but I suppose there'll be no harm--eh, Mrs Kelly?"

"You must let me see him alone, dear Mrs Kelly!"

"If Doctor Colligan thinks you ought, Anty dear, I wouldn't stay in the room myself for worlds."

"But you won't keep him here long, Miss Lynch--eh? And you won't excite yourself?--indeed, you mustn't. You'll allow them fifteen minutes, Mrs Kelly, not more, and then you'll come up;" and with these cautions, the doctor withdrew.