Her father would not dower her to go to Ireland, and Parnell would not think of giving up the Irish cause and settling in America. The engagement therefore hung fire; but on this last visit to America he had sought her out and found himself cold and disillusioned. She was a very pretty girl, he said, with golden hair, small features and blue eyes. One evening, on this last visit, he went to a ball with her, and, as she was going up the stairs, she pressed into his hand a paper on which was written the following verse: "Unless you can muse in a crowd all day On the absent face that fixed you, Unless you can dream that his faith is fast Through behoving and unbehoving, Unless you can die when the dream is past, Oh, never call it loving." He asked me who had written the lines, and I answered that it sounded like one of the Brownings (it is E. B. Browning's), and he said simply: "Well, I could not do all that, so I went home." I suggested that perhaps the lady had suffered in his desertion, but he said that he had seen her, that same evening, suddenly much attracted by a young advocate {62} named A----, who had just entered the room, and decided in his own mind that his vacillation had lost him the young lady. The strenuous work he had then put his whole heart into had driven out all traces of regret. After this dinner-party I met him frequently in the Ladies' Gallery of the House. I did not tell him when I was going; but, whenever I went, he came up for a few minutes; and, if the Wednesday sittings were not very important or required his presence, he would ask me to drive with him. We drove many miles this way in a hansom cab out into the country, to the river at Mortlake, or elsewhere. We chiefly discussed Willie's chances of being returned again for Clare, in case another election was sprung upon us. Both Willie and I were very anxious to secure Mr. Parnell's promise about this, as The O'Gorman Mahon was old, and we were desirous of making Willie's seat in Parliament secure. While he sat by my side in the meadows by the river he promised he would do his best to keep Willie in Parliament, and to secure County Clare for him should the occasion arise. Thus we would sit there through the summer afternoon, watching the gay traffic on the river, in talk, or in the silence of tried friendship, till the growing shadows warned us that it was time to drive back to London. Soon after my first meeting with Mr. Parnell, my sister, Mrs. Steele, invited Mr. Parnell, Mr. McCarthy and myself to luncheon. We had a very pleasant little party at her house. During lunch Mr. Parnell told us he was going to his place in Ireland for some shooting, and Mr. McCarthy and my sister chaffed him for leaving us for the lesser game of partridge shooting, but he observed {63} gravely, "I have the partridges there, and here I cannot always have your society."