Catharine said this to herself, again and again, as she followed Mrs. Barr home. It was not an elegant residence, scarcely even what would be called a comfortable one, but it was clean, tidy, and cheerful; Catharine felt that she had found a haven, at least for the present, and for the future she trusted in God, as good Mrs. Barr had so hopefully bade her do. “This is the only apartment I have to give you,” said that lady, as she ushered Catharine into an attic, freshly whitewashed, with a bed of spotless snow in one corner, “but it has the advantage of having no other occupant. I have but one servant, who sleeps in the next attic; she is a middle-aged, kind-hearted woman, who will never interfere with, and may often be of assistance to you. To-day shall be a holiday, you look worn out; so we will put off work till to-morrow. You may either rest here, or go to see your friend, whom I met in the hall; perhaps it would relieve her mind to know that you are cared for, at least for a time.” Catharine felt as if a new world was opened to her. It was not only that the fear of actual starvation was past, but that the motherly manner of Mrs. Barr had restored faith and hope to her heart, both of which had been nearly shipwrecked. Oh, if we could but remember, that, in bestowing charity, words of kind encouragement often go further than almsgiving. The latter only relieves present necessities, the former restores new energy to the fainting wayfarer on life’s stony highway. When Mrs. Barr left Catharine, the poor girl’s strength gave way and she sank down helplessly on the bed. She intended, however, to rest a little while only, half an hour or so, and then to set forth for Mary Margaret’s. But almost immediately she sunk into a deep slumber, which lasted for nearly three hours; and when this was over, she found, on going down-stairs, that the hour for dinner had come. But she started, at last, for the humble dwelling of the Irish nurse. “Shure, and you look like another crathur, darlint,” were Mary Margaret’s words, before Catharine could speak. “They did the dacent thing for yees, at last, the saints bless them for that same! But come in and see the childer. The poor baby, would ye belaive it, has pined for yees all day.” When Catharine came to tell her story in full, Mary Margaret broke out into an eloquent invective against the Society, but especially against the Lady-Philanthropist, Mrs. Brown. Catharine, however, checked her, repeating what Mrs. Barr had said. “Well, well, darlint,” was the reply, “she’s a good woman, shure she is; and may the sun always shine about her steps. So we’ll say nothing, for her sake, consarnin’ the others—the desateful, hypocritical—well, well, I’ve stopped intirely.” CHAPTER XXX. MADAME DE MARKE AND HER PET.