"When the curse of poverty falls on you, and holds you back from the accomplishment of all your soul most longs for," I said. "Ah, that would be terrible indeed," said she, a little startled at my vehemence; "but do you know poverty is not so dreadful." "Och! then, God help you Miss Kate, what do you know about poverty? sure givin' up a fine house an' horses, an' carriages, an' grandeur, is bad enough; but for poverty, wait till the crathers ye love call to ye for bread, an' ye havn't the screed of a pitaty to give them--that's poverty. Isn't that dreadful? The blessed Saver shield ye from it, darlint, any how." "And to think that your own folly had placed you in such," I observed, not minding nurse. "Then I am quite sure," said Miss Vernon, "that a steadfast resignation to what you brought on yourself, an unmurmuring struggle to retrieve, would work its own cure; there is so much strength in perfect submission!" "Ay, for woman." "And for man too; how can your boldness and wisdom guard against the future any more than our dependence? we can only use the present to the best of our abilities, and leave the rest to God." I remained silently pondering over her words, while she turned to Nurse.--"Dear Nurse, I forgot, indeed, what real poverty was as I spoke; many a one is sinking in such a struggle as you describe, I fear; still there's rest before them." "Thrue for ye, the Heavens be their bed! Amen." "How did we come to scare ourselves with such gloomy thoughts, Captain Egerton? Let us enjoy this lovely day, and leave the sorrows we cannot remove in better hands. There is the keeper's cottage; will you sit here until we have spoken to his daughter? we will not be long." A young woman, supporting a sickly-looking child, appeared in the porch; a tolerably long conference ensued. Nurse opened the basket, the contents of which were received with great pleasure, and the pale boy tried to climb into Kate's arms; she sat down and spoke to him with a smile, to which he responded, as if glad to be with her. Cormac sat gravely by me, making some advances towards greater intimacy in a dignified way. I see the whole picture before me even now; the keeper's pretty cottage, with the rich back ground of autumnal trees, the rustic porch, Nurse and the girl emptying the basket, and Miss Vernon, her shawl falling off one shoulder, bending over the child, who looked up at her with a sort of half wondering, half pleased expression. At length the visit was over, Kate put down the child; and followed for a few steps by its curtseying attendant, rejoined me; Cormac rose as if his responsibility was at an end, and we turned towards home.