“You can at least counsel me—guide me.”
“It is my right and my duty to do so. I am one of your guardians, Kate,” said he, encouragingly.
“Do you remember the morning I came from Ireland, the morning of my arrival at the Cottage?” “Perfectly.”
“Do you remember my grandfather hesitating whether he would let me stay, till some promise was given him that I should not be sent away out of a whim, or a fancy, or at least some pledge as to what should be done with me?” “I remember it all.”
“Well, he was right to have foreseen it. The time has come. Mind your promise—do not question me—but I know that they mean to send me—— I cannot—I will not call it home,” cried she, fiercely. “Home means shelter—friends—safety. Which of these does it offer me?”
“Be calm, my dear child; be calm and tell me all that you know. What reason have they for this change?”
“Ada is to go to Italy, to see her grandmother, who is ill. I am no longer wanted, and to be sent away.” “This is very unlike them. It is incredible.” “I knew you’d say so,” said she, with a heightened colour, and a sparkling eye. “They of course could do no wrong, but perhaps I can convince you. You know Mr. M’Kinlay, he is now at the Cottage, he has come down about this. Oh!” burst she out with a wild cry, while the tears ran down her cheeks—“oh, how bold my sorrow makes me, that I can speak this way to you. But save me! oh save me from this degradation! It is not the poverty of that life I dread, so much as the taunts upon me for my failure; the daily scoffs I shall have to meet from those who hoped to build their fortunes on my success. Tell me, then, where I may go to earn my bread, so it be not there. I could be a servant. I have seen girls as young as me at service. I could take care of little children, and could teach them, too. Will you help me? Will you help me,” cried she, sobbing, “and see if I will not deserve it?”
“Be comforted, my poor child. I have told you already you have a right to my assistance, and you shall have it.”
She bent down and kissed his hand, and pressed her cheek upon it. “Tell me, Kate, do you desire to go abroad with Ada?” “Not now,” said she, in a faint voice. “I did, but I do so no longer.”
“And on no account to return to Ireland.” “On none,” said she, resolutely.