Probably you will not hear from me again for a few days, as I am going into the mountains for some shooting, removed from post offices and such like consolations for broken-hearted politicians, but if, as I hope, a letter from you should reach me even there, I shall try and send you an answer.--Yours very sincerely, CHAS. S. PARNELL. {65} CHAPTER IX AT ELTHAM "_But then--I supposed you to be but a fellow guest?_" "_Ah, no" he answered, he in that cold, unshaken voice, "I have but come home._"--(THE BAGMAN) HONORA SHEE. Whenever I went to town, or elsewhere, I always returned at night to see that my children were all right and to be ready to go to my aunt as usual every morning. One day, on my return from a drive with my aunt, I found that my old nurse Lucy, who still lived with me, was very ill, having had a stroke of paralysis while I was away. She lingered only a couple of days before she died and left a great void in my heart. My children missed their admiring old confidante sadly. She had always been devoted to me as the youngest of her "own babies," as she called my mother's children, and had shared in all my fortunes and misfortunes since I returned from Spain. She was always very proud, and so fearful of becoming a burden to anyone, that she rented a room in her sister's house so that she should feel independent. So often, when "times were bad" with us, she would press some of her savings into my hand and say that "The Captain must want a little change, Dearie, going about as he does!" In her earlier life she had had her romance, and had spent some years in saving up to marry her "sweetheart," as she called him; but shortly before the wedding her father's business failed, and she immediately gave him {66} all her little nest-egg, with the result that her lover refused to marry her. So then, at the great age of ninety, after her blameless life had been passed since the age of sixteen in unselfish devotion to us all, we laid her to rest by the side of my father and mother at Cressing, Willie taking her down to Essex and attending the funeral. As she lay dying I got this note from Mr. Parnell:-- DUBLIN, _September_ 22, 1880. MY DEAR MRS. O'SHEA,--I cannot keep myself away from you any longer, so shall leave to-night for London. Please wire me to 16, Keppel Street, Russell Square, if I may hope to see you to-morrow and where, after 4 p.m.--Yours always, C. S. P. Owing to the piteous clinging to my fingers of my old Lucy I was unable to go to London even for an hour to meet Mr. Parnell, so I telegraphed to that effect, and received the following letter:-- EUSTON STATION, _Friday evening, September_ 24, 1880.