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238
Joan, The Curate.

with aught so feminine as a tear upon her face!"

"Well, Miss Ann, I confess it, I am surprised. I thought you were made of stuff too stern for such weakness!"

"Did you but know more of me," said she, sadly, "you would not think so. We are all, as you know, sir, made by our surroundings; and see what mine have been! Brought up from my earliest childhood among rough folk, hearing of scenes that 'twould make your blood run cold to relate, what chance had I to grow into your soft and tender woman, that sits and smiles, and screams at sight of a spider?"

"But surely there's a wide difference between screaming at a spider, on the one hand, and using the weapons, ay, and the oaths of a man, on the other?"

At this reproach, Ann became suddenly red, and hung her head as if in shame.

"Nay, sir, 'tis true," said she, almost below her breath, "and I am shocked myself, when I have leisure to reflect on't, at the work I do, and the words I utter, when my kinsmen have stirred me up to fight their battles and to do the deeds they demand of me!"