"But will ye come back?" she asked, at last, with a keen glance, "an' whin? there's somethin's throublin' ye, jewil, though ye'll not spake out, an' me heart's oneasy; sure, ye wouldn't let me go from ye, if ye wern't manin' to come back to me; sure, ye wouldn't thrate me that a way, me own child?" "God knows," cried Kate, "it is hard enough to part with you, although I most firmly purpose to be with you ere long; but to say good bye in earnest would be death to me." "An' why need ye stay wid thim Storeys that arn't yer aiquils at all? Ah! where's the use of sthrivin' to decave me. Have you an' me lady fell out, asthore?" This question was put with a concentration of anxiety and curiosity which might have raised a smile to the lips of a casual observer, but which only served to fill up the measure of Kate's perplexities--her equally balanced cares--not to betray her cousin, and not to wound nurse, placing her in a double difficulty. "No, no! quarrel with my dear, kind Georgy! Never, I trust; but, in short, dearest nurse," she continued, with great earnestness, "it would be a source of the greatest comfort to me, to know that you were safe and free from every want, in an establishment such as hers. I am powerless to afford any aid or protection to my oldest, truest friend," pursued Kate, large tears weighing down her eyelashes. "And after years of faithful, constant, self-devoted service, I must owe to another the shelter I cannot give you. Ah! it is a hard fate!" She hid her face on nurse's shoulder. "Och! don't be talking that away, jewil!" ejaculated Mrs. O'Toole. "Sure, haven't I a power iv money I got in yer sarvice that Misther Winter put into the bank fur me? I'll do what iver mee sweet child likes; but faith! I don't want shelther from any one. I'm not past mee work yet, And if ye will have me go from ye, I'll just stop wid me lady fur three weeks or a month; an' at the ind of that time, if yer not comin' to us, I'll come fur ye. Sure, yer in the right iv it not to let Lady Desmond get too accustomed to ye; faith, it's sick she'd be if an angel from Heaven afther a bit; it's well fur her the masther (the Lord rest his sowl,) wasn't that sort." "Dear nurse," said Kate, raising her tearful face, and speaking in broken accents, "why will you distress me by assuming a severe tone towards my kind cousin; she is all that the most exacting could wish. Oh! I have many difficulties before me. How! how! can I part with you?" "An' why do ye ask me to lave ye?" "It must be so," she returned, with more decision than she had yet shown. "And, I will not deceive you, my own, dear nurse--it may be some months before we meet again."