He bowed and handed her a card, on which she read: “The O’Melaghlin, Carrick Arghalee, Antrim, Ireland.” “Will you come into the house, sir? Mr. Stuart is not here at present, but he is not far off, and I will send for him at once,” said Palma, leading the way into the hall and touching a call-bell as she passed a stand. “Thank you, madam,” said the stranger, following her. She conducted him into the drawing-room, gave him a seat and turned to speak to Hatty, who had come in answer to the bell. “Ask Mrs. Pole, please, to go to the children on the piazza. Then send ’Sias to look for Mr. Stuart, to tell him that there is a gentleman here waiting to see him, and give him this card,” said Palma, putting the slip of pasteboard into the girl’s hands. “Is ’Sias for to gib dis to young marster?” inquired Hatty, dubiously. “Yes, certainly. Go away now and do your errands. Go to Mrs. Pole first,” said the anxious young mother. And then she sat down near the front window, through which, from time to time, she could glance out and see that no harm should come to the babies until the arrival of her relief sentinel, Mrs. Pole. Palma was not very well versed in the ways of the world, yet she felt it incumbent on her to entertain the stranger, but she did not exactly know how to do it. “You are recently from Ireland. I have some very dear friends of that country. Indeed, my nearest kinsman married a young girl of that nation.” “Yes; I am aware of that fact. Mr. Randolph Hay married Miss Judith Man—that brings me here to-day. But as for myself, I have not seen Ireland for twenty-one years,” said the stranger. Palma looked up in surprise. “I have been in California, Colorado, Australia, Tasmania, Cape Colony—everywhere else but in my native land,” continued the visitor. Palma looked up inquiringly. “And I came last from California,” concluded the stranger. Palma suddenly remembered that it was rude to stare in silence at any one, especially at a visitor in one’s own house; so she dropped her eyes and said demurely: “I am glad you knew Judith Man, Mrs. Randolph Hay, of Haymore, my cousin by marriage.” “I don’t know her at all. All the same, she is my daughter—my only daughter—and I hope to find her soon, with your assistance, and to make her acquaintance. It is for that purpose that I am here,” said the stranger. Now Palma stared in right good earnest, without once thinking whether she was rude or not. Moreover, she committed another breach of good manners—she echoed his words: “Your daughter!” she exclaimed in astonishment and incredulity. “I never did hear of such a thing!” “Perhaps not,” said the visitor, laughing good-humoredly; “but it is true, nevertheless. And, besides, there are a great many million “‘More things in heaven and earth’ than you ever did hear of, or ever will hear of, my dear young lady.”