was an Englishwoman, though a Catholic; but she had been left early an orphan, and had been brought up in a provincial town of France by her grandmother.  There she had married a certain Captain O’Hara, she having some small means of her own sufficient to make her valuable in the eyes of an adventurer.  At that time she was no more than eighteen, and had given her hand to the Captain in opposition to the wishes of her only guardian.  What had been her life from that time to the period at which, under Father Marty’s auspices, she became the inhabitant of Ardkill Cottage, no one knew but herself.  She was then utterly dissevered from all friends and relatives, and appeared on the western coast of County Clare with her daughter, a perfect stranger to every one.  Father Marty was an old man, now nearly seventy, and had been educated in France.  There he had known Mrs. O’Hara’s grandmother, and hence had arisen the friendship which had induced him to bring the lady into his parish.  She came there with a daughter, then hardly more than a child.  Between two and three years had passed since her coming, and the child was now a grown-up girl, nearly nineteen years old.  Of her means little or nothing was known accurately, even to the priest.  She had told him that she had saved enough out of the wreck on which to live with her girl after some very humble fashion, and she paid her way.  There must have come some sudden crash, or she would hardly have taken her child from an expensive Parisian school to vegetate in such solitude as that she had chosen.  And it was a solitude from which there seemed to be no chance of future escape.  They had brought with them a piano and a few books, mostly French;—­and with these it seemed to have been intended that the two ladies should make their future lives endurable.  Other resources except such as the scenery of the cliffs afforded them, they had none.

The author would wish to impress upon his readers, if it may be possible, some idea of the outward appearance and personal character of each of these two ladies, as his story can hardly be told successfully unless he do so.  The elder, who was at this time still under forty years of age, would have been a very handsome woman had not troubles, suffering, and the contests of a rugged life, in which she had both endured and dared much, given to her face a look of hard combative resolution which was not feminine.  She was rather below than above the average height,—­or at any rate looked to be so, as she was strongly made, with broad shoulders, and a waist that was perhaps not now as slender as when she first met Captain O’Hara.  But her hair was still black,—­as dark at least as hair can be which is not in truth black at all but only darkly brown.  Whatever might be its colour there was no tinge of grey upon it.  It was glossy, silken, and long as when she was a girl.  I do not think that she took pride in it.  How could she take pride in personal beauty, when she