ip came to anchor amid profound silence, save for the orders of
the Captain and the movements of the men. Ledwith was speaking to
himself more than to Honora, a lament in the Irish fashion over the
loved and lost, in a way to break the heart. The tears rolled down
Honora's cheek, for the agony was beginning.

"Land of love ... land of despair ... without a friend except among thy
own children ... here am I back again with just a grain of hope ... I
love thee, I love thee, I love thee! Let them neglect thee ... die every
moment under the knife ... live in rags ... in scorn ... and hatred too
... they have spared thee nothing ... I love thee ... I am faithful ...
God strike me that day when I forget thee! Here is the first gift I have
ever given thee besides my heart and my daughter ... a ship ... no
freight but hope ... no guns alas! for thy torturers ... they are still
free to tear thee, these wolves, and to lie about thee to the whole
world ... blood and lies are their feast ... and how sweet are thy
shores ... after all ... because thou art everlasting! Thy children are
gone, but they shall come back ... the dead are dead, but the living are
in many lands, and they will return ... perhaps soon ... I am the
messenger ... helpless as ever, but I bring thee news ... good news ...
my beautiful Ireland! Poorer than ever I return ... I shall never see
thee free----"

He was working himself into a fever of grief when Honora spoke to him.

"You are forgetting, father, that this is the moment to thank Mr. Dillon
in the name of our country----"

"I forget everything when I am here," said Ledwith, breaking into
cheerful smiles, and seizing Arthur's hand. "I would be ashamed to say
'thank you,' Arthur, for what you have done. Let this dear land herself
welcome you to her shores. Never a foot stepped on them worthier of
respect and love than you."

They went ashore in silence, having determined on their course the night
previous. They must learn first what had happened since their departure
from New York, where there had been rumors of a rising, which Ledwith
distrusted. It was too soon for the Fenians to rise; but as the movement
had gotten partly beyond the control of the leaders, anything might have
happened. If the country was still undisturbed, they might enjoy a ride
through wild Donegal; if otherwise, it was safer, having accomplished
the purpose of the trip, to sail back to the West. The miserable village
at the head