be rather fun. It's deadly dull here
sometimes, when the boys are at school, and Father is busy or away."

Mrs. Fitzgerald sighed. In her delicate health she could scarcely
expect to be a companion for Honor, yet when she thought of how few
years might be left them together, the parting seemed bitter, and she
was hurt that her only daughter would evidently miss her so little.
Young folks often say cruel things from mere thoughtlessness, and
unintentionally grieve those who love them. In after years Honor would
keenly regret her tactless speech, and blame herself that she had not
spent more hours in trying to be a comfort, instead of a care; but for
the present, though she noticed the look of disappointment that passed
over the sensitive face, she did not fully realize its cause, and the
words that might have healed the wound went unspoken.

At length the preparations were concluded, and the time had almost
arrived to bid farewell to Kilmore Castle and the surrounding demesne.
Honor's friends in the village mourned her approaching departure with
characteristic Irish grief.

"Miss Honor, darlint, it's meself that will be hungerin' for a sight of
yez!" cried old Mary O'Grady, standing at the doorway of her thatched
cabin, from which the blue peat smoke issued like a thin mist.

"And it's grand news entoirely they'll be afther tellin' me too, that
ye're lavin' the Castle, and goin' over the seas!" put in Biddy
Macarthy, a next-door neighbour of Mary's. "It's fine to think of all
the iligant things ye'll be seein' now!"

"Bless your bright eyes, it's many a sad heart ye'll lave behind yez!"
added Pat Conolly, the oldest tenant on the estate.

"England can never compare with dear Ireland, in my opinion," replied
Honor, with a choke in her voice. "There's no spot so sweet as Kilmore,
and all the while I'm away I shall be wishing myself back in the 'ould
counthree'!"

"Will ye be despisin' this bit of a present, Miss Honor?" said old
Mary, producing a cardboard box, from which, out of many folds of
tissue paper, she proudly displayed a large bunch of imitation
four-leaved shamrock. "My grandson Micky brought it for me all the way
from Dublin city, and I've kept it fine and new in its papers. Sure, I
know it's not worthy of offerin' to a young lady like yourself, but
I'll take it kindly if ye'll deign to accept it."

"Of course I'll accept it!" returned Honor heartily. "It's very kind of
you to give it to me. It shall