have to do something worse."

"You are a clipper!" said David Tennant, smiling into her face.

"All right, my boy; I expect I am," said Kathleen; and then she added,
springing to her feet, "I have eaten enough, and for what we have
received--Good-bye, Mrs. Tennant; I'm off."




CHAPTER IV.

THE HOME-SICK AND THE REBELLIOUS.


Kathleen O'Hara ran up to an untidy room. She banged-to the door, and
standing by it for a moment, drew the bolt. Thus she had secured herself
against intrusion. She then flung herself on the bed, put her two arms
under her head, and gazed out of the window. Her heart was beating
wildly; she had a strange medley of feelings within. She was
desperately, madly lonely. She was homesick in the most intense sense of
the word.

Kathleen had never left Carrigrohane Castle before. This romantic abode
was situated in the extreme south-west of Ireland. It was a mile away
from the sea, and stood on a rocky eminence which overlooked a very wide
expanse of moor and wood, rushing streams and purple mountains, and deep
dark-blue sea. In the whole world there could scarcely be found a more
lovely view than that which since her birth had presented itself before