“It is precisely for that reason I can't suffer you to think so meanly of me,” cried Jack. “Now just hear me for one moment, and you'll see how unjust you've been.” And, drawing his chair closer to hers, he narrated in a low and whispering voice the few events of their morning at Oughterard, and read for her the short note Magennis had written to him.
“And is that all?” exclaimed Joan, when he concluded.
“All, upon my honor!” said he, solemnly.
“Oh, then, wirra! wirra!” said she, wringing her hands sorrowfully, “why did I come here?—why did n't I bear it all patient? But sure my heart was bursting, and I could not rest nor sleep, thinking of what happened to him! Oh, yer honer knows well what he is to me!” And she covered her face with her hands.
“You have done nothing wrong in coming here,” said Jack, consolingly.
“Not if he never hears of it,” said she, in a voice tremulous with fear.
“That he need never do,” rejoined Jack; “though I cannot see why he should object to it. But come, Mrs. Joan, don't let this fret you; here's a young lady will tell you, as I have, that nobody could possibly blame your natural anxiety.”
“What would a young lady know about a poor creature like me?” exclaimed Joan, dejectedly. “Sure, from the day she's born, she never felt what it was to be all alone and friendless!”
“You little guess to whom you say that,” said Kate, turning round and gazing on her calmly; “but if the balance were struck this minute, take my word for it, you 'd have the better share of fortune.”
Jack Massingbred's cheek quivered slightly as he heard these words, and his eyes were bent upon the speaker with an intense meaning. Kate, however, turned haughtily away from the gaze, and coldly reminded him that Mrs. Joan should have some refreshment after her long walk.