There was talk of Doctor M----'s wonderful sermon, as they wended their way home--of how he had finally and utterly annihilated the Pope; but Kate heard no sound, save a sad echo in her heart repeating--"gone--gone." Vain would it be to describe the anguish with which she threw herself on her bed, when free and alone, and gave herself up to an agony of hysteric sobs. Was it a dark fate hanging over her, ever to catch glimpses of happiness, and there to lose them? Why need she hope or struggle any more--all she longed for, was darkness and silence--never, never again might she be as she was; when such a trifle had debarred her from so bright a meeting, dare she hope the insuperable barrier of distance would ever be removed? She could not rouse herself from this paroxysm--the buoyancy of her spirit seemed, at last, worn out; and head and heart alike aching, she lay in the stillness of exhaustion, across her bed, when the servant came to summon her to dinner. "I think Mrs. Tom have sent me a bad bargain after all," was Mrs. Jorrocks's observation, on receiving an account of Miss Vernon's indisposition. "I see I'll have to pay my forty pounds a year for the nursetending of her--she looked like a ghost this week, and didn't mind a word she was reading of--but it's always the way--new brooms." "Well I'm sure, mother, it's only the heat at church--she will be better to-morrow." "She need'nt go to church, if she don't like to." Kate only asked for quiet, and her own room, unmolested, for a few days--this was permitted her; and there she lay, through the long, weary, dark hours, brooding over the past, sometimes struggling with nature's repugnance to depression; but for awhile careless and indifferent to all without; then she strove to rally her scattered forces, to remember that Winter was soon to return. "And until that hope too is gone, I will not despair--God is so good, and wise--He sees I have had so much sorrow--He will send me joy, sooner or later--yes; I will hope still." CHAPTER IX. THE LAST. The Saturday after the event last recorded, Kate was bending sadly enough over her daily task, reading the _Court Circular_ to Mrs. Jorrocks--her thoughts wandering to some letters from Lady Desmond, and from nurse, which she had not had the heart to answer. "The Countess of P----, is entertaining a large party at P---- Castle--the Prince di ----, and Count Alphonso di ----, are among the distinguished visitors. "The Earl of Effingham left Cowes, on Tuesday last, in his yacht, the 'Meteor,' for St. Petersburgh, where we understand it is his lordship's intention to winter." "He be a shocking man," observed Mrs. Jorrocks, _en parenthése_, "such stories as Mr. Wilson have heard of him up in London. Go on please--I think you be half asleep this morning." But Kate was now wide awake--so he was gone at last--Lady Desmond must hear it--all would be clear to her--she could no longer doubt! Miss Vernon took fresh courage, and began again:--