“Mother! with the finest intellectual capacities, she is nearly destitute of all opportunities of intellectual culture. That is bad—but not so deplorable as what follows. Kate Kavanagh—that is her name—is far removed from all of her own sex. Her young brother, her only protector, is absent from home from earliest dawn till late at night. Her only companion is an old man, an habitual drunkard, subject to frequent and furious fits of mania-a-potu. Her case, upon my showing, may not be so exigent. But if you had seen her as I did, it would seem so. Her brother being best acquainted with the circumstances, is the best judge in the premises, and is very anxious upon his sister’s account, and wishes to get her a place at service.”
“But if she is a girl of so excellent a nature as you have supposed, will she leave her aged relative?”
“Not willingly, certainly—but—I wish the opportunity of improving her condition afforded her, indeed, I promised her brother Carl that it should be presented.”
“I know Carl Kavanagh—he worked for me during the last year. I formed a good opinion of him. If his sister is equal to him she must be a meritorious girl.”
“She is very superior to him, madam.”
The lady was mistress of great promptitude and decision of action. With her eyes fixed upon the ground she reflected for a few moments, then lifting them, said—
“Write to your friend Carl Kavanagh—”
“Not my friend, dear madam, an’ it please you!” haughtily interrupted her son.
A slight shade of disapproval or of displeasure clouded the lady’s brow for a moment, and she said—
“Write then to your dependent, Carl Kavanagh, and let him know that I am willing to receive his sister into my own service on trial—and that he may bring her hither as soon as is convenient.”