atrick! I thought
woman's love was just like our own, and that a three months' cruise
would set all to rights again."

"I thought she had gone over to France."

"So did I; but now she has told me all about it. Father O'Toole and her
mother brought her down to the coast near here, to embark in a smuggling
boat for Dieppe. When the boat pulled in-shore in the night to take
them in, the mother and the rascally priest got in, but she felt as if
it were leaving the whole world to leave the country I was in, and she
held back. The officers came down, one or two pistols were fired, the
boat shoved off without her, and she, with their luggage, was left on
the beach. She went back to the next town with the officers, where she
told the truth of the story, and they let her go. In Father O'Toole's
luggage she found letters, which she read, and found out that she and
her mother were to have been placed in a convent at Dieppe; and, as the
convent was named in the letters--which she says are important, but I
have not had courage to read them yet--she went to the people from whose
house they had embarked, requesting them to forward the luggage and a
letter to her mother--sending everything but the letters, which she
reserved for me. She has since received a letter from her mother,
telling her that she is safe and well in the convent, and begging her to
come over to her as soon as possible. The mother took the vows a week
after she arrived there, so we know where to find her, Peter."

"And where is the poor girl going to stay now, O'Brien?"

"That's all the worst part of it. It appears that she hoped not to be
found out till after we had sailed, and then to have--as she said, poor
thing!--to have laid at my feet and watched over me in the storms; but I
pointed out to her that it was not permitted, and could not be, and that
I would not be allowed to marry her. Oh, Peter! this is a very sad
business," continued O'Brien, passing his hand across his eyes.

"Well, but, O'Brien, what is to become of the poor girl?"

"She is going home to be with my father and mother, hoping one day that
I shall come back and marry her. I have written to Father McGrath to
see what he can do."

"Have you then not undeceived her?"

"Father McGrath must do that, I could not. It would have been the death
of her. It would have stabbed her to the heart, and it's not for me to
give that blow. I'd sooner have died--sooner have married her, than