ill continued to be for the greater part of the year her
constant companion. Occasionally, they looked in upon Mr Jamieson, the
minister, and his blind niece, Miss O'Reilly. They did not forget
either the old fishwife, the Widow O'Neil. Whenever they saw her, they
did not fail to inquire about her son; but she shook her head, with a
melancholy look.

"He will come back some day, I know he will. He promised me he would;
but he does not write to me--he sends me no messages. Perhaps, as he
knows I cannot read, he thinks it will be no use writing; but, oh, he
loves me dearly; and it is for no want of love he does not write. He
will come back to me, dear young ladies, some day; and, oh, with what
pride I shall have to bring him to you. He will be a fine, strong lad
by that time. Maybe you would not know him. He must be altered greatly
since the day you took his picture, when he was a young fisher-boy."

Mr Jamieson, however, was more surprised than any one else at not
hearing from Dermot. He had been fully prepared for Dermot's going
away, but he did not for one moment suppose, from what he knew of the
lad, that he would not have kept up a correspondence with his friends at
home. Still, he had received no letter, and had seen none from him to
any one else, since the epistle brought by mad Kathleen a few days after
his departure. Had it not been for this, he would have supposed he had
met with some foul treatment from the rebels, or that some fearful
accident had befallen him. Still, whenever Miss O'Reilly spoke to the
widow, the old woman expressed her firm belief that Dermot was living,
and would most assuredly come back to her. That thought seemed to keep
her alive, and to give her strength of mind and body to go through her
accustomed duties. Sometimes, however, it appeared to the blind lady,
when she listened to the old woman, that her mind was not altogether
right, for she spoke of strange things she had seen and done in her
youth, the meaning of which Miss O'Reilly could not comprehend. She
could not, however, listen to her speaking of Dermot without feeling
touched by the deep love which formed, as it were, a part of her being,
for her young son. There was one person, however, who could have given
more information about the matter than anybody else, if he had chosen--
that was Father O'Rourke. For purposes best known to himself, he had
gained an undue influence over the authorities at the post-office