n accents half choked by sobs--"my son! my
hope! my pride!"--and while the old man poured forth these words of
happiness, the young one stood pale, cold, and seemingly apathetic.
His eyes bent on vacancy, and his features devoid of all expression of
passion, he turned from Sir Archy, who grasped one hand, and looked at
Kate, who held the other between hers, but in his gaze there was
rather the look of one suddenly recalled to consciousness out of some
long-fevered sleep, than the healthful aspect of waking life.

"You are not ill, Mark--you're only fatigued," said Kate, as a tear
slowly trickled down her cheek, and fell upon his hand.

Mark started as he felt the drop, and looked at her with a searching
glance, then turned his eyes towards Hemsworth, and back again to her,
and for the first time a stern and scornful smile curled upon his lip.
Kate seemed to read the glance, and returned it with a look, proud and
haughty as his own, while dropping his hand, she walked towards her
chair without speaking.

"We maun let him hae a bit supper as soon as may be," said Sir Archy,
whose practical good sense saw how much bodily fatigue influenced the
youth's demeanour.

"Supper!" said the O'Donoghue; "ay, faith, every bottle in the cellar
would be too little to celebrate the boy's return. Ring that bell,
Archy. Where is Kerry? What are the people doing not to know that their
young master is here?"

"At another moment, I should beg that Mr. O'Donoghue might remember me,"
said Hemsworth, with a deferential bow. "And I hope the time is coming
when I may be permitted to renew my acquaintance;--for the present, I
feel how unsuited the presence of a stranger is, on an occasion like
this, and cannot better show how deeply I appreciate your feeling than
by taking my leave."

So saying, he courteously saluted the O'Donoghue, Sir Archy, and Kate;
while, turning to Mark, he proffered his hand, as he said--

"Pray, sir, let the occasion excuse the liberty, and permit me to add my
welcome also."

"You do the honours of this house too early, sir," was Mark's savage
reply, while he folded his arms upon his breast, and measured Hemsworth
with a glance of withering scorn. "I'm beneath my father's roof. It is
not for a stranger to bid me welcome here."

Hemsworth smiled, and muttered some words in mild acquiescence, their
tone and accent were apologetic, and the manner in which he spoke them
humble even to humility. When they were utter