a place called the Green Lanes,
about three miles from Dublin. The name was happily given, for on every
side there were narrow roads overshadowed by leafy trees, which met
above and gave only glimpses of sky and cloud through their feathery
foliage. The close hedgerows of white or pink thorn limited the view on
either side, and imparted a something of gloom to a spot whose silence
was rarely broken, for it was not a rich man's neighborhood. They who
frequented it were persons of small fortune, retired subalterns in the
army, or clerks in public offices, and such like petty respectabilities
who preferred to herd together, and make no contrasts of their humble
means with larger, greater incomes.

Amongst the sensations I shall never forget--and which, while I write,
are as fresh as the moment I first felt them--were my feelings when the
car stopped opposite a low wicket, and Mr. McBride, the attorney, helped
me down and said, "This is your home, Digby; your mother lives here."
The next moment a pale but very handsome young woman came rushing down
the little path and clasped me in her arms. She had dropped on her knees
to bring her face to mine, and she kissed me madly and wildly, so that
my cap fell off. "See how my frill is all rumpled," said I, unused as
I was to such disconcerting warmth, and caring far more for my smart
appearance than for demonstrations of affection. "Oh, darling, never
mind it," sobbed she. "You shall have another and a nicer. I will make
it myself, for my own boy,--for you are mine, Digby. You are mine,
dearest, ain't you?"

"I am papa's boy," said I, doggedly.

"But you will love mamma too, Digby, won't you?--poor mamma, that has no
one to love her, or care for her if you do not; and who will so love
you in return, and do everything for you,--everything to make you
happy,--happy and good, Digby."

"Then let us go back to Earls Court. It's far prettier than this, and
there are great lions over the gateway, and wide steps up to the door. I
don't like this. It looks so dark and dreary,--it makes me cry." And to
prove it, I burst out into a full torrent of weeping, and my mother hung
over me and sobbed too; and long after the car had driven away, we
sat there on the grass weeping bitterly together, though there was no
concert in our sorrow, nor any soul to our grief.

That whole afternoon was passed in attempts to comfort and caress me by
my mother, and in petulant demands on my part for this or