hither Dr. Gerald was
going with us, that he might have the last word and hand-clasp before we
sailed away from Irish shores; and so near was the parting that we were
all, in our hearts, bidding farewell to the Emerald Isle.

Good-bye, Silk of the Kine! I was saying to myself, calling the friendly
spot by one of the endearing names given her by her lovers in the sad
old days. Good-bye, Little Black Rose, growing on the stern Atlantic
shore! Good-bye, Rose of the World, with your jewels of emerald and
amethyst, the green of your fields and the misty purple of your hills!
Good-bye, Shan Van Vocht, Poor Little Old Woman! We are going
back, Himself and I, to the Oilean Ur, as you used to call our new
island--going back to the hurly-burly of affairs, to prosperity and
opportunity; but we shall not forget the lovely Lady of Sorrows looking
out to the west with the pain of a thousand years in her ever youthful
eyes. Good-bye, my Dark Rosaleen, good-bye!

Chapter XXXII. 'As the sunflower turns.'

'No, the heart that has truly loved never forgets,
But as truly loves on to the close,
As the sunflower turns on her god, when he sets,
The same look which she turned when he rose.'
Thomas Moore.

Here we all are at O'Carolan's Hotel in Dublin--all but the Colquhouns,
who bade us adieu at the station, and the dear children, whose tears are
probably dried by now, although they flowed freely enough at parting.
Broona flung her arms tempestuously around Salemina's neck, exclaiming
between her sobs, "Good-bye, my thousand, thousand blessings!"--an
expression so Irish that we laughed and cried in one breath at the sound
of it.

Here we are in the midst of life once more, though to be sure it is
Irish life, which moves less dizzily than our own. We ourselves feel
thoroughly at home, nor are we wholly forgotten by the public; for on
beckoning to a driver on the cab-stand to approach with his side-car, he
responded with alacrity, calling to his neighbour, "Here's me sixpenny
darlin' again!" and I recognised him immediately as a man who had once
remonstrated with me eloquently on the subject of a fee, making such a
fire of Hibernian jokes over my sixpence that I heartily wished it had
been a half-sovereign.

Cables and telegrams are arriving every hour, and a rich American lady
writes to Salemina, asking her if she can purchase the Book of Kells
for her, as she wishes to