“Be it as you please, my dear, dear uncle,” said the affectionate girl; “only let it not cost you another painful thought, to rob me of so many happy ones. There now, we must never speak of this any more;” and, so saying, she kissed him twice, and rose from her chair. “We are going to the 'Lodge' to-morrow, to spend the day; Herbert is so well that he comes with us.” “And Mark--what of him, dearest?” “Mark will be none of us, sir. We are either too gay, or too frivolous, or too silly, or too something or other, for his solemn humour, and he only frowns and stares at us; but all that will pass away soon; I shall find out the key to his temper yet, and then, make him pay for all his arrears of sulkiness.” “It is our changed condition, my love, that has made him thus,” said the father, anxious to excuse the young man's morose habits. “The poorer courage his, then,” replied the high-spirited girl, “I have no patience for a man who acts but the looking-glass to fortune--frowns when she frowns, and smiles when she smiles. No! Give me the temper that can enjoy the sunshine, and brave the storm--take all the good the world affords, and show a bold heart to resist the evil.” “My own brother, my poor dear Mark, spoke there,” cried the old man, in an ecstacy, as, springing up, he flung his arms about her; “and that's your philosophy, sweet Kate?” “Even so; the stout heart to the stae brae, as Sir Archy would call it, and as he mutters every evening he has to climb the steep stair towards his bed-room. And now, good night, dear uncle--good night.” With an affectionate greeting, the old man took his leave of her for the night, and sat down, in a frame of mingled happiness and shame, to think over what had passed. The O'Donoghue was very far from feeling satisfied with himself for what he had done. Had Kate been at all difficult of persuasion--had she yielded to his arguments, or been convinced by any explanation of his views, he would soon have reconciled himself to the act, as one in which both parties concurred. Far from this--he saw that her only motive was affection; that she would listen to nothing save the promptings of her own warm heart; she would not let him even exculpate himself from the charge of his own conscience; and, although acquitted by her, he felt the guilt still upon him.