h him upon
occasions of that kind. I, for my part, in whom a passion for literature
was just beginning to develope itself had a theory of my own upon the
subject, and regarded her with unwonted respect in consequence. Her
abstraction appeared to me exactly that of an author when contemplating
some great work, and I had no doubt but she would turn out a poetess.
Both conjectures were characteristic, and both, as it happened, wrong.

Upon my next visit to London, I found that a great change had happened
in Honor's destiny. Her father, whom she had been fond of investing with
the dignity of a rebel, but who had, according to Mrs. Sherwood's more
reasonable suspicion, been a reckless, extravagant, thoughtless person,
whose follies had been visited upon himself and his family, with the
evil consequences of crimes, had died in America; and his sister, the
richly-jointured widow of a baronet, of old Milesian blood, who during
his life had been inexorable to his entreaties to befriend the poor
girl, left as it were in pledge at a London boarding-school, had
relented upon hearing of his death, had come to England, settled
all pecuniary matters to the full satisfaction of the astonished and
delighted governess, and finally carried Honor back with her to Dublin.

From this time we lost sight altogether of our old companion. With her
schoolfellows she had never formed even the common school intimacies,
and to Mrs. Sherwood and her functionaries, she owed no obligation
except that of money, which was now discharged. The only debt of
gratitude which she had ever acknowledged, was to the old French
teacher, who, although she never got nearer the pronunciation or the
orthography of her name than Mademoiselle l'Ocalle, had yet, in the
overflowing benevolence of her temper, taken such notice of the deserted
child, as amidst the general neglect might pass for kindness. But she
had returned to France. For no one else did Honor profess the slightest
interest Accordingly, she left the house where she had passed nearly all
her life, without expressing any desire to hear again of its inmates,
and never wrote a line to any of them.

We did hear of her, however, occasionally. Rumours reached us, vague and
distant, and more conflicting even than distant rumours are wont to be.
She was distinguished at the vice-regal court, a beauty and a wit; she
was married to a nobleman of the highest rank; she was a nun of the
order of Mercy; she was dead.