“A sort of Protestant penance for my Catholic errors, I suppose,” said Miss Vernon, laughing.--“Well, I thank you for the information, Mr. Jobson, and will hie me home as fast as I can, and be a better housekeeper in time coming. Good-night, my dear Mr. Jobson, thou mirror of clerical courtesy.” “Good-night, ma'am, and remember the law is not to be trifled with.” And we rode on our separate ways. “There he goes for a troublesome mischief-making tool,” said Miss Vernon, as she gave a glance after him; “it is hard that persons of birth and rank and estate should be subjected to the official impertinence of such a paltry pickthank as that, merely for believing as the whole world believed not much above a hundred years ago--for certainly our Catholic Faith has the advantage of antiquity at least.” “I was much tempted to have broken the rascal's head,” I replied. “You would have acted very like a hasty young man,” said Miss Vernon; “and yet, had my own hand been an ounce heavier than it is, I think I should have laid its weight upon him. Well, it does not signify complaining, but there are three things for which I am much to be pitied, if any one thought it worth while to waste any compassion upon me.” “And what are these three things, Miss Vernon, may I ask?” “Will you promise me your deepest sympathy, if I tell you?” “Certainly;--can you doubt it?” I replied, closing my horse nearer to hers as I spoke, with an expression of interest which I did not attempt to disguise. “Well, it is very seducing to be pitied, after all; so here are my three grievances: In the first place, I am a girl, and not a young fellow, and would be shut up in a mad-house if I did half the things that I have a mind to;--and that, if I had your happy prerogative of acting as you list, would make all the world mad with imitating and applauding me.” “I can't quite afford you the sympathy you expect upon this score,” I replied; “the misfortune is so general, that it belongs to one half of the species; and the other half”--