have power over my fortune."

"But not to effect your ruin, Kate."

"No, sir, nor shall I. Will my dear uncle love me less for the
consciousness in my own heart, that I am doing right? Will he have a
smile the less for me, that I can return it with an affection warmer
from very happiness? I cannot believe this; nor can I think that you
would render your brother's daughter unworthy of her father. You would
not refuse _him_." Her lip trembled, and her eyes grew full, as she
uttered the last few words in a voice, every word of which went to the
old man's heart.

"There is but one way, Kate."

"What need of more, uncle; do we want a choice of roads, if we see a
straight path before us?"

"Yes, dearest--but it will be said I should not have suffered you to do
this--that in accepting a loan."

"A loan!" uttered she, reproachfully.

"As that, or nothing, can I ever touch a farthing of it," replied the
O'Donoghue. "No, no! Distress and hardship have been a weary load this
many a year; but all sense of honour is not yet obliterated in this poor
heart."

"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