han you 'd find in the whole of
Ameriky."

It seemed to Nora as if her purseful of money were warm against her
breast, like another heart; the sixpences in her pocket all felt warm
to her fingers and hopped by themselves into the pleading hands that
were stretched out all along the way. The sweet clamor of the Irish
voices, the ready blessings, the frank requests to those returning from
America with their fortunes made, were all delightful to her ears. How
she had dreamed of this day, and how the sun and shadows were chasing
each other over these upland fields at last! How close the blue sea
looked to the dark hills! It seemed as if the return of one prosperous
child gave joy to the whole landscape. It was the old country the same
as ever,--old Mother Ireland in her green gown, and the warm heart of
her ready and unforgetting. As for Nora, she could only leave a wake
of silver six-pences behind her, and when these were done, a duller
trail of ha'pennies; and the air was full of blessings as she passed
along the road to Dunkenny.

By this time Nora had stopped talking and laughing. At first everybody
on the road seemed like her near relation, but the last minutes seemed
like hours, and now and then a tear went shining down her cheek. The
old man's lips were moving,--he was saying a prayer without knowing it;
they were almost within sight of home. The poor little white houses,
with their high gable-ends and weather-beaten thatch, that stood about
the fields among the green hedges; the light shower that suddenly fell
out of the clear sky overhead, made an old man's heart tremble in his
breast. Round the next slope of the hill they should see the old place.

The wheel-track stopped where you turned off to go to the Donahoe farm,
but no old Mary was there to give friendly welcome. The old man got
stiffly down from the side-car and limped past the gate with a sigh;
but Nora hurried ahead, carrying the big baby, not because he could n't
walk, but because he could. The young son had inherited his mother's
active disposition, and would run straight away like a spider the
minute his feet were set to the ground. Now and then, at the sight of
a bird or a flower in the grass, he struggled to get down. "Whisht,
now!" Nora would say; "and are n't you going to see Granny indeed?
Keep aisy now, darlin'!"

The old heart and the young heart were beating alike as these exiles
followed the narrow footpath round the shoul