"Dying of hunger is a very horrible thing," said Lettice, quietly, "and much more easily said than done. We have not, God be thanked for it, ever been quite so badly off as that; but I have stood near enough to the dreadful gulf to look down, and to sound its depth and its darkness. I am very thankful, deeply thankful, for this offer, which I should gladly accept, only what is to become of you?" "Oh! never mind me. It's the fashion now, I see, for every body to think of _you_, and nobody to think of me. I'm not worth caring for, now those who cared for me are gone. Oh! pray, if you like to be a domestic slave yourself, let _me_ be no hindrance." "A domestic slave! why should I be a domestic slave? I see no slavery in the case." "_I_ call it slavery, whatever you may do, to have nothing to do all day but play toad-eater and flatterer to a good-for-nothing old woman; to bear all her ill-humors, and be the butt for all her caprices. That's what humble friends are expected to do, I believe; what else are they hired for?" "I should neither toady nor flatter, I hope," said Lettice; "and as for bearing people's ill-humors, and being now and then the sport of their caprices, why that, as you say, is very disagreeable, yet, perhaps, it is what we must rather expect. But Mrs. Melwyn, I have always heard, is the gentlest of human beings. And if she is like Catherine, she must be free from caprice, and nobody could help quite loving her." "Stuff!--love! love! A humble friend love her _un_humble friend; for I suppose one must not venture to call one's mistress a tyrant. Oh, no, a friend! a dear friend!" in a taunting, ironical voice. "Whomever it might be my fate to live with, I should _try_ to love; for I believe if one tries to love people, one soon finds something lovable about them, and Mrs. Melwyn, I feel sure, I should soon love very much." "So like you! ready to love any thing and every thing. I verily believe if there was nothing else to love but the little chimney-sweeper boy, you'd fall to loving him, rather than love nobody." "I am sure that's true enough," said Lettice, laughing; "I have more than once felt very much inclined to love the little boy who carries the soot-bag for the man who sweeps these chimneys--such a saucy-looking, little sooty rogue." "As if a person's love _could_ be worth having," continued the sister, "who is so ready to love any body." "No, that I deny. Some few people I _do_ find it hard to love." "Me for one." "Oh, Myra!" "Well, I beg your pardon. You're very kind to me. But I'll tell you who it will be impossible for you to love--if such a thing can be: that's that testy, cross, old general." "I don't suppose I shall have much to do with the old general, if I go."