Every soul in Muirisc came soon enough to share this disquietude with the elements. Such evil tidings as these, that The O’Mahony was quitting the country, seemed veritably to take to themselves wings. The village, despite the fact that the fishing season had not yet arrived, and that there was nothing else to do, could not lie abed on such a morning, much less sleep. Even the tiniest children, routed out from their nests of straw close beside the chimney by the unwonted bustle, saw that something was the matter. Mrs. Fergus O’Mahony heard the intelligence at a somewhat later hour, even as she dallied with that second cup of coffee, which, in her own phrase, put a tail to the breakfast. It was brought to her by a messenger from the convent, who came to say that the Ladies of the Hostage’s Tears desired her immediate presence upon an urgent matter. Mrs. Fergus easily enough put two and two together, as she donned her bonnet and _broché_ shawl. It was The O’Mahony’s departure that was to be discussed, and the nuns were right in calling _that_ important. She looked critically over the irregular walls of the castle, as she passed it on her way to the convent. Here she had been born; here she had lived in peace and plenty, after her brother’s death, until the heir from America came to turn her out. Who knew? Perhaps she was to go back again, after all. Mrs. Fergus agreed that the news was highly important. The first glance which she threw about her, after she had been ushered in the reception-hall, revealed to her that not even she had guessed the full importance of what was toward. The three nuns sat on their accustomed bench at one side of the fire, and behind them, in his familiar chimney-corner, palsied old Father Harrington lolled and half-dozed over the biscuit he was nibbling to stay his stomach after mass. At the table, before a formidable array of papers, was seated Cormac O’Daly, and at his side sat the person whose polite name seemed to be Diarmid MacEgan, but whom Muirisc knew and delighted in as Jerry. Mrs. Fergus made a mental note of surprise at seeing him seated in such company, and then carried her gaze on to cover the principal personage in the room. It was The O’Mahony, looking very grave and preoccupied, and who stood leaning against the chimney-mantel like a proprietor, who welcomed her with a nod and motioned her to a seat. It was he, too, who broke the silence which solemnly enveloped the conference. “Cousin Maggie,” he said, in explanation, to her, “we’ve got together this little family party so early in the mornin’ for the reason that time is precious. I’m goin’ away--for my health--in an hour or two, an’ there are things to be arranged before I go. I may be away for years; maybe I sha’n’t ever come back.” “Sure the suddenness of it’s fit to take one’s breath away!” Mrs. Fergus exclaimed, and put her plump white hand to her bosom. “I’ve nerves that bad, O’Mahony,” she added.