‘I have not heard the plan yet,’ said Kate faintly.
‘Just a nunnery, then—no more nor less than that. The “Sacred Heart” at Namur, or the Sisters of Mercy here at home in Bagot Street, I believe, if you like better—eh?’
‘It is soon to be able to make up one’s mind on such a point. I want a little time for this, godmother.’
‘You would not want time if your heart were in a holy work, Kate Kearney. It’s little time you’d be asking if I said, will you have Gorman O’Shea for a husband?’
‘There is such a thing as insult, Miss O’Shea, and no amount of long intimacy can license that.’
‘I ask your pardon, godchild. I wish you could know how sorry I feel.’
‘Say no more, godmother, say no more, I beseech you,’ cried Kate, and her tears now gushed forth, and relieved her almost bursting heart. ‘I’ll take this short path through the shrubbery, and be at the door before you,’ cried she, rushing away; while Miss Betty, with a sharp touch of the spur, provoked such a plunge as effectually awoke Paddy, and apprised him that his duties as groom were soon to be in request.
While earnestly assuring him that some changes in his diet should be speedily adopted against somnolency, Miss Betty rode briskly on, and reached the hall door.
‘I told you I should be first, godmother,’ said the girl; and the pleasant ring of her voice showed she had regained her spirits, or at least such self-control as enabled her to suppress her sorrow.