others-in both our homes-misunderstand and condemn him.

How could he possibly have done less? Geraldine asks. When there is a great work to be helped forward, people, if they are in earnest, cannot be content idly to wish it well from a distance they must stand up and join, and put their lives at its service.

-

And with characteristic buoyancy Geraldine is prophesying already of the time when Kevin will come back among us again, honoured and acknowledged by all as a true deliverer of our country.

CHAPTER VI.

May 24th.-I cannot help feeling it a real relief that this is the day on which Denis had to leave to return to his college duties. I dare not think into what profitless encounters with the people he, in his present, inflamed state of mind, might not have chosen to bring himself. Nothing but harm could have been the result. If the people are ever to be gained to different feelings it will not beit never can be-by angry, insolent abuse heaped upon their politics and religion.

As far as it is in my power, I will not for one moment listen to the endless torrent of hot words which he pours forth on every available occasion about our duty of disowning a brother who has turned a rebel, a sneak, a secret plotter, an ally of Papists, a preacher of sedition.

At least his favourite vaunt that every evil from which the country suffers is solely and wholly the fault of Papists and popery― is, for this time put to silence.

Dear, tiresome, old Denis! Now he is gone, my heart smites me for having wished him away, and for our many disagreements. However, I relieved my feelings by giving him a hearty parting shake, and assuring him I loved him as much as I hated him, and he returned my sisterly proof by such a huge, super-affectionate hug, that left me no breath to add more.

But all the afternoon I have been feeling doubly desolate. I have been in Kevin's

room, putting his things in order.

It is a strange and unaccountable thing— except that we suspect strongly Honor knows more than she chooses to admit that all those things which Kevin must most need, are missing from his room. There can be little doubt that Honor must have collected, and in some way conveyed them to him early yesterday morning. But she will tell nothing.

Honor has said no more about leaving us, and father is willing to let the subject drop.

I think for the sake of old associations he cannot bring himself to send her away. And we have not a doubt of her faithful attachment to us, nor a fear that she would not do

all in her power to guard us from evil. Indeed father is of the opinion that our household will be the safer for her presence and timely warnings.

Father is grievously annoyed that so many of the people should have left with Kevin. What causes him and mother too, the greatest distress of all is the thought that it is Kevin's doing. It is he who has been the chief agent in educating and exciting their minds.

Altogether a heavy gloom has settled over our house; henceforth-and perhaps this is one of the saddest parts—henceforth we are openly "a house divided against itself;" we cannot comfort one another.

At night. I was tired and weary when I wrote the above entry-the afternoon seemed so long and lonely. The house was oppressively still. Lilian Trevor had fallen asleep ―her usual resort for the chronic ennui, from which she suffers. Little Ida, our brightest spirit, was at play on the sea shore. Kevin had gone, Denis had gone. Father had shut himself into his study.

I went down to the drawing-room, half

.

wishing in a predetermined quarrelsome mood, for a talk with mother, half anxious to avoid it.

Mr. Roche was sitting with her. I felt sure he had come on a sort of visit of condolence.

"I have been speaking with Mrs. O'Rossa on the sad calamity which has befallen you all,” he said to me when I had made my curtsey. "Dear child, I know your heart must grieve for the shame your brother has brought upon his family. You have my profoundest sympathy."

He paused, looking as solemn as the

occasion.

I said respectfully, trying to feel grateful, "I thank you, Mr. Roche." And then I felt a dreadful hypocrite to receive sympathy for so different a cause from that for which I needed it.

"Alas!" continued good, old, Mr. Roche, "with what true distress one marks the downfall of a dear relative who errs from the path of duty! Doubtless, you will exert a sister's influence to point out to your brother the grievous wickedness of his conduct, and