After each attack of fever it was expected that she would perish from
weakness and exhaustion; but she still held on, and then the fever
abated, and Doctor Colligan thought that it was possible she might
recover: she was, however, so dreadfully emaciated and worn out, there
was so little vitality left in her, that he would not encourage more
than the faintest hope. Anty herself was too weak either to hope or
fear;--and the women of the family, who from continual attendance knew
how very near to death she was, would hardly allow themselves to think
that she could recover.

There were two persons, however, who from the moment of her amendment
felt an inward sure conviction of her convalescence. They were Martin
and Barry. To the former this feeling was of course one of unalloyed
delight. He went over to Kelly's Court, and spoke there of his
betrothed as though she were already sitting up and eating mutton
chops; was congratulated by the young ladies on his approaching
nuptials, and sauntered round the Kelly's Court shrubberies with Frank,
talking over his future prospects; asking advice about this and that,
and propounding the pros and cons on that difficult question, whether
he would live at Dunmore, or build a house at Toneroe for himself and
Anty. With Barry, however, the feeling was very different: he was again
going to have his property wrenched from him; he was again to suffer
the pangs he had endured, when first he learned the purport of his
father's will; after clutching the fruit for which he had striven, as
even he himself felt, so basely, it was again to be torn from him so
cruelly.

He had been horribly anxious for a termination to Anty's sufferings;
horribly impatient to feel himself possessor of the whole. From day to
day, and sometimes two or three times a day, he had seen Dr Colligan,