"My own blessed darlin'," it began, "I've a power to tell you; but, first of all, avourneen, there's yer letter that warmed yer own ould nurse's heart--my hearty thanks for it, jewil. You see, there's three weeks of the four I promised to stay with my lady gone, and I'm wearyin' to see my sisther's daughter and her childre that's doin' well in Killeesh; and an unfortunate vagabone of a boy, my cousin, they tell me is gone to the bad--so I'm sure, Miss Kate, jewil, ye'll give me lave to step over, and if I get a thrifle of work, sure I'll be better plaised nor to be here doin' nothin', but in everybody's way, an' my lady different to what she used to be--not but that she's good; but, asthore, I don't know how she and you parted, an' I never feel asy like with her, so just tell me you'll let me off stoppin' here any longer." Kate hardly felt surprise at this intelligence. She had instinctively expected that nurse would not remain long with Lady Desmond; yet this was an increase of anxiety. "I trust she will not give away all her money," thought Kate, as she sat down to reply to Lady Desmond's letter. She expressed her regret at nurse's determination, urging, however, in extenuation, that her desire to revisit the scenes of her youth, and the few relations she had left, was natural and pardonable. After touching on all the points in her cousin's letter, she found herself concluding her own before she had courage to mention Lord Effingham's name; she therefore added a short postscript--"I have seen Lord Effingham for the last time." She next wrote her assent to nurse's project, recommending her, however, merely to go on furlough, and not to break altogether with Lady Desmond. These letters despatched, she joined her hostess. "You remember, I told you yesterday, I wanted a good long talk with you, Mrs. Storey." "Yes, dear, and here I am ready for it." "You are very kind to me, Mrs. Storey." "La, my love, it's a pleasure to me." "You know I am very poor," said Kate, not exactly sure how to get into her subject. "I told you at Hampton Court that terrible lawsuit was not concluded, and now it seems it has died a natural death; so I must try and do something for myself." A thundering knock here startled and interrupted her. "Goodness, gracious me," cried Mrs. Storey, "who can that be? A very smart brougham, my dear, and--let me see--yes--no--it _is_ young Mrs. Tom Jorrocks. Well, she is very agreeable, but I wish she had not interrupted us. Delighted to see you, Mrs. Jorrocks--this is so kind and friendly," &c., &c.