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"Now give us back our
memories, Sylvia!" he said, exultingly.
Susan Donnelly sank into a chair, overcome by the mixed emotions of
the moment.
"Come in, my faithful Jack! Unpack thy portmanteau of news, for I
see thou art bursting to show it; let us have every thing from the
beginning. Wife, it's a little too much for thee, coming so
unexpectedly. Set out the wine, Alice!"
The decanter was placed upon the table. O'Neil filled a tumbler to
the brim, lifted it high, made two or three hoarse efforts to
speak, and then walked away to the window, where he drank in
silence. This little incident touched the family more than the
announcement of their good fortune. Henry Donnelly's feverish
exultation subsided: he sat down with a grave, thoughtful face,
while his wife wept quietly beside him. Sylvia stood waiting with
an abstracted air; Alice removed her mother's bonnet and
shawl; and Henry and Joel, seated together at the farther end of
the room, looked on in silent anticipation.
O'Neil's story was long, and frequently interrupted.


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