fortune or was dependent on my guardian. On this point Mrs. Compton knew no more than myself.

I had delayed my departure from school for two years longer than had at first been arranged. I could now crave no further respite. The friendships of fourteen years must be torn asunder.

To the extreme west of the western province of the western isle was I bound. When once there I would be dead to my friends and to the world for ever. I had almost forgotten that I was going to the land of my birth; yet, such was the fact. But, though both my parents had been Irish, I had no connections in Ireland, and I had little reason to suppose that my guardian would give me a very cordial welcome.

CHAPTER II.

THE WILD WEST.

WHEN next you behold me, reader, I am seated in a little dingy apartment of a small hotel, in the somewhat dreary-looking Connaught town where the railway terminated. I have been waiting there more than an hour for the carriage which is to convey me to Verney Court, my guardian's residence.

My patience is becoming completely worn out. I have exhausted every means of passing away the time that the room affords, and

VERNEY COURT: AN IRISH NOVEL.

7

have looked at the clock, hanging over the narrow black mantelpiece, so often that I have been obliged to bind myself not to do so more than every ten minutes.

At last, in a paroxysm of despair, I again take up yesterday's paper, and, determined to be engaged in a way that would not discredit the school I had left, set myself the profitable task of finding out and correcting the grammatical errors in the advertise

ments.

I might have got through a column, when the sound of persons talking outside diverted my attention.

The partition was thin, and I could not help hearing nearly every word. The principal voice was that of a gentleman, who seemed to be in conversation with the owner

of the inn, and the first words that I think I specially noticed were

"So then he's very popular, you say, this Mr. Nugent?"

66

Faith, sir, that he is, and why wouldn't he be? Sure you wouldn't know it for the same place since he came to it, everything's so improved."

"He's always on the spot, I suppose "Faith, very nearly sir, except when something takes him up to Dublin or over to London for a start."

"I hear it's a very fine property. Well," with a sudden and sharp change of tone, as if addressing a new-comer, why are you

66

listening so attentively? Is there anything remarkable in what I'm saying, or that concerns you?"

"I'm listenin' because I hear the name o'

the best gintleman in the country," was the response, in a rich Irish brogue.

“Indeed! That's the general story, it seems. Mr. Nugent doesn't run much risk of getting shot among you, then ?"

"Shot! is it? So that's all you know about it, to hint sich a thing. Bedad! whoever shot him, or attempted it, 'ud rue the day. By gor! we'd shoot him ourselves, widout axin' lave o' judge or jury!"

"That's unusual talk for an Irish peasant, my friend."

"Unusual or not, it's thrue, an' if your honour's comin' to these parts you'll hear it from many another besides Shane O'Reilly. Whose fault it is that it's unusual is a question for some people to settle. It isn't Mr.

Nugent, at all events."

"This wonderful gentleman, who appears