"That's right. Have a good cry, my dear. It will relieve you, and you'll feel better then. I know myself how peevish it makes one to be ill, with no one to tend and talk to you; but you won't be angry with me now for bringing you the fruit and wine, for indeed, indeed, they are the best to be had, and do you think I'd be so purse-proud and insulting as to treat you as one of the poor people? No, indeed, my dear, for I don't mind telling you that I'm only going to be a poor woman myself, for things are to be very sadly altered, and when I come to see you, if I'm to stay here instead of going to the workhouse, there'll be no carriage, but I shall have to walk." "I--I--beg your pardon, Mrs Wilton," sobbed Jenny. "I say cross things since I have been so ill." "Of course you do, my precious, and quite natural. We women understand it. I wish the gentlemen did; but dear, dear me, they think no one has a right to be cross but them, and they are, too, sometimes. You can't think what I have to put up with from Mr Wilton and my son, though he is a dear, good boy at heart, only spoiled. But you're getting better, my dear, and you'll soon be well." "Yes, Mrs Wilton," said Jenny, piteously, "if I don't die first." "Oh, tut, tut, tut! die, at your age. Why, even at mine I never think of such a thing. But, oh, my dear child, I want you to try and pity and comfort me. You know, of course, what trouble we have been in." "Yes," said Jenny. "I have heard, and I'm better now, Mrs Wilton. Won't you sit down?" "To be sure I will, my dear. There: that's better. And now we can have a cozy chat, just as we used when you came to the Manor. Oh, dear, no visitors now, my child. It's all debt and misery and ruin. The place isn't the same. Poor, poor Kate!" "Have you heard where she is, Mrs Wilton?" "No, my dear," said the visitor, tightening her lips and shaking her head, "and never shall. Poor dear angel! I am right. I'm sure it's as I said." Jenny looked at her curiously, while every nerve thrilled with the desire to know more. "I felt it at the first," continued Mrs Wilton. "No sooner did they tell me that she was gone than I knew that in her misery and despair she had gone and thrown herself into the lake; and though I was laughed at and pooh-poohed, there she lies, poor child. I'm as sure of it as I sit here." "Mrs Wilton!" cried Jenny, in horrified tones. "Oh, pray, pray, don't say that!" and she burst into a hysterical lit of weeping.