“'Tis just himself, and his daughter. I heerd them say the names, as we were leaving Macroom. They were not expected here these three weeks; and Captain Hemsworth, the agent, isn't at home; and they say there's no servants at the lodge, nor nothin' ready for the quality at all; and sure when a great lord like that--” “He is not a lord you fool; he has not a drop of noble blood in his body: he's a London banker--rich enough to buy birth, if gold could do it.” The youth paused in his vehemence; then added, in a muttering voice--“Rich enough to buy up the inheritance of those who have blood in their veins.” The tone of voice in which the young man spoke, and the angry look which accompanied these words, threw a gloom over the party, and for some time nothing was said on either side. At last he broke silence abruptly by saying-- “And that was his daughter, then?” “Yes, sir; and a purty crayture she is, and a kind-hearted. The moment she heerd she was on her father's estate, she began asking the names of all the people, and if they were well off, and what they had to ate, and where was the schools.” “The schools!” broke in Mary, in an accent of great derision--“musha, it's great schooling we want up the glen, to teach us to bear poverty and cowld, without complaining: learning is a fine thing for the hunger--” Her irony was too delicate for the thick apprehension of poor Jim, who felt himself addressed by the remark, and piously responded-- “It is so, glory be to God!” “Well,” said the young man, who now seemed all eagerness to resume the subject--“well, and what then?” “Then, she was wondering where was the roads up to the cabins on the mountains, as if the likes of them people had roads!” “They've ways of their own--the English,” interrupted Jim, who felt jealous of his companion being always referred to--“for whenever we passed a little potatoe garden, or a lock of oak, it was always, 'God be good to us, but they're mighty poor hereabouts;' but when we got into the raal wild part of the glen, with divil a house nor a human being near us, sorrow word out of their mouths but 'fine, beautiful, elegant!' till we came to Keim-an-eigh, and then, ye'd think that it was fifty acres of wheat they were looking at, wid all the praises they had for the big rocks, and black cliffs oyer our heads.” “I showed them your honour's father's place on the mountains,” said Joe. “Yes, faith,” broke in Jim; “and the young lady laughed and said, 'you see, father, we have a neighbour after all.'” The blood mounted to the youth's cheek, till it became almost purple, but he did not utter a word. “'Tis the O'Donoghue, my lady,' said I,” continued Joe, who saw the difficulty of the moment, and hastened to relieve it--“that's his castle up there, with the high tower. 'Twas there the family lived these nine hundred years, whin the whole country was their own; and they wor kings here.” “And did you hear what the ould gentleman said then?” asked Jim.