e mind of the Romish priest. Poor Dermot! little did he think what
was to be the fate of the loving letter he had written to his mother,
the first he had had the opportunity of inditing after he had left the
shores of England.

Days, and weeks, and months passed on and the widow had heard nothing of
her son. The priest, however, after watching month after month, at
length found a letter, which seemed to give him infinite satisfaction.
Its contents need not be revealed; but Father O'Rourke had at length
found the means, so it appeared from his ejaculations, by which he could
communicate with Dermot.

The day arrived when the Earl and his family were to quit Kilfinnan
Castle. Their neighbours and friends, and the surrounding peasantry,
turned out to bid them farewell.

Numberless were the expressions of affection and regard given utterance
to, as persons of all ranks came forward to pay their adieux to the
Earl, but more especially to Lady Nora, and her cousin, Lady Sophy.
Lady Nora shed many tears. She was bidding farewell to the spot she
loved, where the gentle mother whom she could just recollect had
breathed her last, and round which were centred all the pleasant
recollections of her youth. She was going to a strange land, to a
country where she had heard of pestilence stalking forth in the noonday,
and her heart sank within her, to think of the dangers to which her
father might be exposed. Yet one thing consoled her--she hoped there to
meet her brother, who was still, she knew, on the station, though a
report had come that the ship was about to leave it.

Among the guests were Mr Jamieson and his blind niece. The Earl shook
them warmly by the hand. "If anything happens to me, Jamieson, remember
I charge you to look after my young boy. He is a good and a brave
youth, but he requires a friend; and Nora, Miss O'Reilly, I would rather
you had charge of her than anybody on earth, and yet I am afraid she is
growing too old to be under the guidance of any one; I suspect, too, she
could only be led by the hand of love. She is a dear, sweet girl, and I
often think if I am taken away, what is to become of her in this cruel
world. Jamieson, I need not conceal from you that I believe my affairs
are cruelly disarranged. It is hard work, you know, to get in the
rents, and of late years, my steward has told me, and I believe him,
that it has been harder than ever. I do not like to press the tenants;
I never yet had