Well, never mind; it will shake up to the top at last when it's too late." Lady O'Hara's head was bothered till the last moment, when the hotel bill was paid, the hackney coach and driver in his coat of many capes at the door, and landlord, landlady, and servants all waiting to bid the amiable, bluff-spoken Irish lady God-speed in her long journey to the other side of the world.

Then the door banged; and, followed by a cheer, the coach was driven off, Nic feeling in a peculiar state of mind, a mixture of high spirits, low spirits, and pain; for Lady O'Hara plumped herself back in her corner, took out a handkerchief, covered her face, and burst into a fit of sobbing, rocking herself to and fro as she cried aloud till Nic could bear it no longer.

He had been fidgeting and wondering what to say or do, growing more and more wretched, till, at the end of ten minutes, he laid his hand upon his companion's, and said simply: "Oh, Lady O'Hara, pray, pray don't cry." "Sure, and I won't," she exclaimed impetuously, as she hastily wiped her eyes; "but I couldn't help it, Nic.

It hurts me when people are so kind and sorry to part from you, and ye feel that ye may never see them again.

I'm afraid I'm a very silly old woman.