For all Jack Massingbred's boasted “tact,” and his assumed power of suiting himself to his company, he felt very ill at ease as he walked along that morning. “His world” was not that of the poor country girl at his side, and he essayed in vain to find some topic to interest her. Not so Kate Henderson. With all a woman's nice perception, and quite without effort, she talked to Joan about the country and the people, of whose habits she knew sufficient not to betray ignorance; and although Joan felt at times a half-suspicious distrust of her, she grew at length to be pleased with the tone of easy familiarity used towards her, and the absence of anything bordering on superiority. Joan, whose instincts and sympathies were all with the humble class from which she sprung, described in touching language the suffering condition of the people, the terrible struggle against destitution maintained for years, and daily becoming more difficult and hopeless. It was like a shipwrecked crew reduced to quarter-rations, and now about to relinquish even these! “And they are patient under all this?” asked Kate, with that peculiar accent so difficult to pronounce its meaning. “They are, indeed, miss,” was the answer. “Have they any hope? What do they promise themselves as the remedy for these calamities?” “Sorrow one of 'em knows,” said she, with a sigh. “Some goes away to America, some sinks slowly under it, and waits for God's time to leave the world; and a few--but very few--gets roused to anger, and does something to be transported or put in jail.” “And Miss Martin,--does she not relieve a good deal of this misery? Is she not of immense benefit by her exertions here?” “Arrah, what can a young lady do, after all? Sure it's always them that talks most and best gets over her. Some are ashamed, and some are too proud to tell what they 're suffering; and I believe in my heart, for one that 's relieved there are twenty more angry at seeing how lucky he was.” They walked along now for some time in silence, when Joan, stopping short, said, “There's the house, miss; that's the place I live in.” “That house far away on the mountain side?” “Yes, miss; it's four miles yet from this.” “But surely you haven't to walk all that way?” “What signifies it? Is n't my heart lighter than when I came along this morning? And now I won't let you come any farther, for I'll take a short cut here across the fields.” “May I go and see you one of these days?” asked Kate. Joan grew crimson to the very roots of her hair, and turned a look on Massingbred, as though to say, “You ought to answer this for me.” But Jack was too deep in his own thoughts even to notice the appeal. “I can scarcely ask _you_ to come to _me_,” said Kate, quickly perceiving a difficulty, “for I 'm not even a visitor at Cro' Martin.”