“You see so much is true,” said he, pointing to the massive emerald drop that hung upon her neck. Kate’s cheek flushed a deep crimson as her eyes glanced rapidly over the room, and her mind seemed in an instant to recover itself. “I hope you are not angry with me,” stammered she, in deep confusion. “I know I have been very foolish--will you forgive me?” As she came to the last words she dropped upon her knees, and, bending forward, hid her head between his hands. “My sweet child, there is not anything to forgive. As to those trinkets, I never believed they were so handsome till I saw them on you.” “It was wrong--very wrong; but I was alone, and I thought no one would ever see me. If I was sure you had forgiven me----” “Be sure, my dear child,” said he, as he smoothed back her golden hair, caressing the beautiful head with his wasted fingers, “and now that I have assured you of this, tell me what it was you wished to speak of to me. You had a trouble, you said--what was it, Kate?” “May I tell you of it?” asked she, lifting her eyes for the first time towards him, and gazing upwards through her tears. “To be sure you may, child, and with the certainty that you speak to one who loves you.” “But I do not know how I can tell it--that is, how you are to believe what I shall tell you, when I am not able to say why and how I know the truth of what I shall say.” “More likely is it, child, I shall not ask that question, but take your word for it all.” “Yes, that is true; it is what you would do. I ought to have seen that,” muttered she, half aloud. “Are we certain to be alone here? Can I tell you now?” “Certainly. They are off to see the gardens. None will interrupt us: say on.” “Mind,” said she, eagerly, “you are not to ask me anything.” “I agree. Go on.” “At the same time, you shall be free to find out from others whether I have misled you or not.” “Go on, my dear child, and do not torment yourself with needless cares. I want to hear what it is that grieves you, and if I can remove your sorrow.” “You can at least counsel me--guide me.” “It is my right and my duty to do so. I am one of your guardians, Kate,” said he, encouragingly. “Do you remember the morning I came from Ireland, the morning of my arrival at the Cottage?” “Perfectly.” “Do you remember my grandfather hesitating whether he would let me stay, till some promise was given him that I should not be sent away out of a whim, or a fancy, or at least some pledge as to what should be done with me?” “I remember it all.” “Well, he was right to have foreseen it. The time _has_ come. Mind your promise--do not question me--but I know that they mean to send me---- I cannot--I will not call it home,” cried she, fiercely. “Home means shelter--friends--safety. Which of these does it offer _me?_” “Be calm, my dear child; be calm and tell me all that you know. What reason have they for this change?”