“Have they any hope? What do they promise themselves as the remedy for these calamities?”
“Sorrow one of 'em knows,” said she, with a sigh. “Some goes away to America, some sinks slowly under it, and waits for God's time to leave the world; and a few—but very few—gets roused to anger, and does something to be transported or put in jail.”
“And Miss Martin,—does she not relieve a good deal of this misery? Is she not of immense benefit by her exertions here?”
“Arrah, what can a young lady do, after all? Sure it's always them that talks most and best gets over her. Some are ashamed, and some are too proud to tell what they 're suffering; and I believe in my heart, for one that 's relieved there are twenty more angry at seeing how lucky he was.”
They walked along now for some time in silence, when Joan, stopping short, said, “There's the house, miss; that's the place I live in.”
“That house far away on the mountain side?”
“Yes, miss; it's four miles yet from this.”
“But surely you haven't to walk all that way?”
“What signifies it? Is n't my heart lighter than when I came along this morning? And now I won't let you come any farther, for I'll take a short cut here across the fields.”
“May I go and see you one of these days?” asked Kate.