“My dear Mrs. Nelligan, there is no need of these excuses,” said Mary, taking her hand cordially, and leading her to a seat. “It is a great pleasure to me to see a friendly face, and I am grateful for the chance that sent you here.” Mrs. Nelligan, once relieved of her first embarrassment, poured forth with volubility the explanation of her presence; and Mary heard her to the end with patient politeness. “And you were going away somewhere,” resumed she, “when I stopped you. I see your pony-chaise there at the door waiting for you, and you're off to the quarries or Kilkieran, I 'll be bound; or maybe it's only going away you are, to be out of this for a day or two. God knows, I don't wonder at it! It is a trying scene for you, and a great shock to your feelings, to see the place dismantled, and everything sold off!” “It is sad enough,” said Mary, smiling through her tears. “Not to say that you're left here all alone, just as if you were n't one of the family at all; that 's what I think most of. And where were you going, dear?” “I was going to pass a few days at the cottage,--the Swiss cottage. Catty Broon, my old nurse, has gone over there to get it in readiness for me, and I shall probably stay there till all this confusion be over.” “To be sure, dear. What's more natural than that you'd like to spare your feelings, seeing all carried away just as if it was bankrupts you were. Indeed, Dan said to me the things wouldn't bring more than at a sheriff's sale, because of the hurry you were in to sell them off.” “My uncle's orders were positive on that subject,” said Mary, calmly. “Yes, dear, of course he knows best,” said she, with a shake of the head not exactly corroborating her own speech. “And how are you to live here by yourself, dear?” resumed she; “sure you 'll die of the loneliness!” “I don't think so: I shall have plenty to occupy me,--more, indeed, than I shall be equal to.” “Ay, in the daytime; but the long evenings--think of the long evenings, dear! God knows, I find them very often dreary enough, even though I have a home and Dan.” “I 'm not afraid of the long evenings, my dear Mrs. Nelligan. It is the only time I can spare for reading; they will be my hours of recreation and amusement.” “Well, well, I hope so, with all my heart,” said she, doubtingly. “You know yourself best, and maybe you'd be happier that way, than if you had somebody to talk to and keep you company.” “I didn't say that,” said Mary, smiling. “I never implied that a visit from some kind friend--Mrs. Nelligan, for instance--would not be a very pleasant event in my solitude.” “To come and see you,--to come to Cro' Martin!” exclaimed Mrs. Nelligan, as though trying to reconcile her mind to the bare possibility of such a circumstance. “If you would not think it too far, or too much trouble--”