He opened the door of his daughter's room, and spoke her name in a whisper.

There was not a sound.
"Fast asleep," he said, with a sigh, as he went to his dressing-room to dress for dinner.

That was something he would not have omitted for any possible calamity that could befall him.
He ate his dinner in lonely state.

Bridget had done her best by way of expressing her sympathy, but he ate without his usual enjoyment.
"Sure," said Pat afterwards, "he didn't know but what it was sawdust he was atin' instead of that beautiful volly-vong of yours.

He could barely touch the mutton, and a beautiful little joint it was.