He looked very white
and worn--Donal thought a good deal worse than when he saw him
first. His cheeks were more sunken, his hair more gray, and his eyes
more weary--with a consuming fire in them that had no longer much
fuel and was burning remnants. He stooped over his plate as if to
hide the operation of eating, and drank his wine with a trembling
hand. Every movement indicated indifference to both his food and his
drink.
At length the more solid part of the meal was removed, and they were
left alone, fruit upon the table, and two wine-decanters. From one
of them the earl helped himself, then passed it to Donal, saying,
"You are very good to my little Davie, Mr. Grant! He is full of your
kindness to him. There is nobody like you!"
"A little goes a long way with Davie, my lord," answered Donal.
"Then much must go a longer way!" said the earl.
There was nothing remarkable in the words, yet he spoke them with
the difficulty a man accustomed to speak, and to weigh his words,
might find in clothing a new thought to his satisfaction. The effort
seemed to have tried him, and he took a sip of wine. This, however,
he did after every briefest sentence he uttered: a sip only he took,
nothing like a mouthful.
Donal told him that Davie, of all the boys he had known, was far the
quickest, and that just because he was morally the most teachable.
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