s so much
neglected--neglected! no, but never thought of at all! Good-bye, sir,"
he added, taking up his hat, whilst the features of this sterling and
honest man were overcast with a solemn and pathetic spirit, "don't
consider me any longer your tenant. For many a long year has our names
been--but no matther--the time is come at last, and the M'Mahon's of
Carriglass and Ahadarra will be known there no more. It wasn't our
fault; we wor willin' to live--oh! not merely willin' to live, but
anxious to die there; but it can't be. Goodbye, sir." And so they
parted.

M'Mahon, on his return home, found Bryan, who now spent most of his time
at Carriglass, before him. On entering the house his family, who were
all assembled, saw by the expression of his face that his heart had been
deeply moved, and was filled with sorrow.

"Bryan," said he, "you are right--as indeed you always are. Childre',"
he proceeded, "we must lave the place that we loved so much; where we
have lived for hundreds of years. This counthry isn't one now to prosper
in, as I said not long since--this very day. We must lave the ould
places, an' as I tould Fethertonge, the M'Mahons of Ahadarra and
Carriglass will be the M'Mahons of Ahadarra and Carriglass no more; but
God's will be done! I must look to the intherest of you all, childre';
but, God help us, that's what I can't do here for the future. Every one
of sense and substance is doin' so, an' why shouldn't we take care of
ourselves as well as the rest? What we want here is encouragement and
fair play; but _fareer gair_, it isn't to be had."

The gloom which they read in his countenance was now explained, but this
was not all; it immediately settled upon the other members of the family
who were immediately moved,--all by sorrow, and some even to tears.
Dora, who, notwithstanding what her brother had said with regard to his
intention of emigrating, still maintained a latent hope that he might
change his mind, and that a reconciliation besides might yet be brought
about between him and Kathleen, now went to her father, and, with tears
in her eyes, threw her arms about his neck, exclaiming: "Oh, father
dear, don't think of leaving this place, for how could we leave it? What
other country could we ever like as well? and my grandfather--here he's
creepin' in, sure he's not the same man within the last few months,--oh,
how could you think of bringin' him, now that he's partly in his grave,
an' he," she added, in