A LETTER-BAG
CHAPTER LX
A DEFEAT
CHAPTER LXI
A CHANGE OF FRONT
CHAPTER LXII
WITH A PASHA
CHAPTER LXIII
ATLEE ON HIS TRAVELS
CHAPTER LXIV
GREEK MEETS GREEK
CHAPTER LXV
IN TOWN
CHAPTER LXVI
ATLEE’S MESSAGE
CHAPTER LXVII
WALPOLE ALONE
CHAPTER LXVIII
THOUGHTS ON MARRIAGE
CHAPTER LXIX
AT KILGOBBIN CASTLE
CHAPTER LXX
ATLEE’S RETURN
CHAPTER LXXI
THE DRIVE
CHAPTER LXXII
THE SAUNTER IN TOWN
CHAPTER LXXIII
A DARKENED KOOM
CHAPTER LXXIV
AN ANGRY COLLOQUY
CHAPTER LXXV
MATHEW KEARNEY’S REFLECTIONS
CHAPTER LXXVI
VERY CONFIDENTIAL CONVERSATION
CHAPTER LXXVII
TWO YOUNG LADIES ON MATRIMONY
CHAPTER LXXVIII
A MISERABLE MORNING
CHAPTER LXXIX
PLEASANT CONGRATULATIONS
CHAPTER LXXX
A NEW ARRIVAL
CHAPTER LXXXI
AN UNLOOKED-FOR CORRESPONDENT
CHAPTER LXXXII
THE BREAKFAST-ROOM
CHAPTER LXXXIII
THE GARDEN BY MOONLIGHT
CHAPTER LXXXIV
NEXT MORNING
CHAPTER LXXXV
THE END
CHAPTER I
Table of Contents
KILGOBBIN CASTLE
Table of Contents
Some one has said that almost all that Ireland possesses of picturesque beauty is to be found on, or in the immediate neighbourhood of, the seaboard; and if we except some brief patches of river scenery on the Nore and the Blackwater, and a part of Lough Erne, the assertion is not devoid of truth. The dreary expanse called the Bog of Allen, which occupies a tableland in the centre of the island, stretches away for miles—flat, sad-coloured, and monotonous, fissured in every direction by channels of dark-tinted water, in which the very fish take the same sad colour. This tract is almost
