"Lord bless us!" said Mr. Williamson, "what is that you say?"
"It is only a rumour, sir, but I hear Kinloch Houran is all in a commotion, and it is believed everywhere. The young lord was seen with some ladies going there in a boat this afternoon, and they say that he has perished in the flames."
Sanderson was fond of fine language, and his countenance was composed to the occasion.
"Lord bless us!" cried Mr. Williamson again. "Send off a man and horse without a moment's delay to find out the truth. Quick, man, and put down the sherry, I'll help myself! Poor lad, poor lad, young Erradeen! He was about this house like one of our own, and no later than yesterday--Katie, do you hear?" he cried, half rising and leaning over the forest of flowers and ferns that covered the table, "Katie! do you hear this terrible news? but it cannot be true!"
Katie had been told at the same moment, and the shock was so great that everything swam in her eyes, as she looked up blanched and terror-stricken in mechanical obedience to her father's cry. "That man will have killed him," she said to herself: and then there came over her mind a horror which was flattering too, which filled her with dismay and pain, yet with a strange sensation of importance. Was it she who was to blame for this catastrophe, was she the cause----
"It seems to be certain," said some one at the table, "that Erradeen was there. He was seen on the battlements with a lady, just before the explosion."
"His mother!" said Katie, scarcely knowing why it was that she put forth this explanation.
"A young lady. There is some extraordinary story among the people that she--had something to do with the fire."
"That will be nonsense," said Mr. Williamson. "What would a lady have to do with the fire? Old stone walls like yon are not like rotten wood. I cannot understand for my part----"
"And there could be no young lady," said Katie. "Mrs. Methven was alone."
"Well, well!" said her father. "I am sorry--sorry for Lord Erradeen; he was just as fine a young fellow----But we will do him no good, poor lad, by letting our dinner get cold. And perhaps the man will bring us better news--there is always exaggeration in the first report. I am afraid you will find that soup not eatable, Lady Mary. Just send it away; there is some fine trout coming."