n his future life. His
whole thought was what arrangement he could make with his father by which,
for a little present assistance, he might surrender all his right on the
entail and give up Kilgobbin for ever.

As for Nina, her complexities were too many and too much interwoven for our
investigation; and there were thoughts of all the various persons she had
met in Ireland, mingled with scenes of the past, and, more strangely still,
the people placed in situations and connections which by no likelihood
should they ever have occupied. The thought that the little comedy of
everyday life, which she relished immensely, was now to cease for lack of
actors, made her serious--almost sad--and she seldom spoke during the meal.

At Lord Kilgobbin's request, that they would not leave him to take his
wine alone, they drew their chairs round the dining-room fire; but, except
the bright glow of the ruddy turf, and the pleasant look of the old man
himself, there was little that smacked of the agreeable fireside.

'What has come over you girls this evening?' said the old man. 'Are you in
love, or has the man that ought to be in love with either of you discovered
it was only a mistake he was making?'

'Ask Nina, sir,' said Kate gravely.

'Perhaps you are right, uncle,' said Nina dreamily.

'In which of my guesses--the first or the last?'

'Don't puzzle me, sir, for I have no head for a subtle distinction. I only
meant to say it is not so easy to be in love without mistakes. You mistake
realities and traits for something not a bit like them, and you mistake
yourself by imagining that you mind them.'

'I don't think I understand you,' said the old man.

'Very likely not, sir. I do not know if I had a meaning that I could
explain.'

'Nina wants to tell you, my lord, that the right man has not come forward
yet, and she does not know whether she'll keep the place open in her heart
for him any longer,' said Dick, with a half-malicious glance.

'That terrible Cousin Dick! nothing escapes him,' said Nina, with a faint
smile.

'Is there any more in the newspapers about that scandal of the Government?'
cried the old man, turning to Kate.

'Is there not going to be some inquiry as to whether his Excellency wrote
to the Fenians?'

'There are a few words here, papa,' cried Kate, opening the paper. '"In
reply to the question of Sir Barnes Malone as to the late communications
alleged to have passed between the head of the Irish Governm