’Sophy, where were we reading of a nation which gives the simplest transaction the air of a little romance?’ said Ulick.

’And I have heard of a nation which denudes every action of sentiment, and leaves you the tree without the leaves,’ was Genevieve’s retort.

’That misses fire, Miss Durant; my nation does everything by the soul, nothing by mechanism.’

‘When they do do it.’

’That’s a defiance.  You must deprive the conductor of the moral influence, whether as man or machine, and entrust the parcel to me.’

’That would be like chartering a steamer to send home a Chinese puzzle.’

’No, indeed; I must go to Hadminster.  Bear me witness, Sophy, Miss Goldsmith wants me to talk to the house agent.’

‘Mind, if you miss St. Leocadia’s day, you will miss my aunt’s fete.’

Mr. O’More succeeded in carrying off the little parcel.  The next morning, as the ladies were descending the hill, a hurried step came after them, and the curate said in an abrupt rapid manner, ’I beg your pardon, I was going to Hadminster; could I do anything for you?’

‘Nothing, thank you,’ said Albinia, at whom he looked.

‘Did I not hear—­Miss Durant had some work to send her aunt to-day?’

‘How did you know that, Mr. Hope?’ exclaimed Genevieve.

‘I heard something pass, when some one was admiring your work,’ he said, not looking at her.  ’And this—­I think—­is St. Leocadia’s day.’

’I am very much obliged to you for remembering it, but I have sent my little parcel otherwise, so I need not trouble you.’

‘Ah! how stupid in me!  I am very sorry.  I beg your pardon,’ and he hurried off, looking as if very sorry were not a mere matter of course.

‘Poor man,’ thought Albinia, ’I dare say he has reckoned on it all this time, and hunted out St. Leocadia in Alban Butler, and then tried to screw up his courage all yesterday.  Ulick has managed to traverse a romance, but perhaps it is just as well, for what would be the effect on the public of Mr. Hope in that coat being seen ringing at the convent door?’

‘Well, Miss Durant,’ said Ulick, entering the drawing-room in the winter twilight, ‘here is evidence for you!’

’You have actually penetrated the convent, and seen my aunt?  Impossible! and yet this pencilled note is her own dear writing!’

‘You don’t mean that you really were let in?’ cried Sophy.

’I entered quite legitimately, I assure you.  It was all luck.  I’d just been putting up at the Crown, when what should I see in a sort of a trance, staring right into the inn-yard, but as jolly-looking a priest as ever held a station.  “An’ it’s long since I’ve seen the like of you,” says he aloud to himself.  “Is it the car?” says I.  “Sure it is,” says he.  “I’ve not laid my eyes on so iligant a vehicle since I left County Tyrone."’

‘Mr. O’Hara!’ exclaimed Genevieve.