placed by the assertion of it, she felt no
inclination to question.

To avoid, or at least postpone, her meeting
with Frank, she took occasion to pay a visit
to her old nurse, who, with her husband,
occupied a small farm, at some distance from
Swallowfield. She did not leave Mrs. Price's
dwelling till past five, and the early spring
day was waning fast, as she sadly bent her
steps homeward. The soft and humid air
was fragrant from banks of violets and
primroses, and the distant moon hung in the
ether. It was an evening for tender thoughts,
and as Catherine pursued her way, her mind
wandered back to the old days of her
childhood, and to the countless pleasant hours
which she and Frank had spent together.

When a turn in the road brought her face
to face with him of whom she was thinking,
she beheld him without surprise, though the
tide of blood setting tumultuously to her
heart deprived her for the moment of speech
or motion.

"I came to meet you, Kitty," said Frank
Irwin, " your aunt told me where you were
gone— she asked me to come— I hope you are
not displeased."

"Oh, no! " said Catherine, trembling yet
more, and only daring to deprecate his anger
by a look of supplication; for there was a
restraint and haughtiness in his tone and
manner which were quite new to her. He
turned to walk with her, and they had
proceeded some way before he again addressed
her. At length he said,

"I want to say a few words to you Catherine."
He spoke slowly and with manifest
effort. "I need not tell you that your refusal
to accompany my mother to London was a
sad disappointment, yes, and an unexpected
disappointment to me. I am not going to
distress you by an inquiry into the motives of
your refusal. You act upon them so decidedly
that you must be satisfied with them.
I only wish to say that I am aware from your
conduct on this occasion, and from the manner
of your behaviour to me since my return
from Germany, that I have been so unhappy
as to incur your displeasure. I have in vain
examined myself to discover the reason, you
have given me no clue, though I daily feel
how strong that displeasure must be which
has so completely changed our mutual
relations and destroyed a friendship so close, so
old. You must not imagine that I am so
preposterously conceited as to suppose that
your refusal to go to London was entirely
occasioned by your unwillingness to be
distressed by my presence. If that were the
only obstacle, you need no longer hesitate, for
I have to-day asked and obtained my father's
permission to make an extensive tour in
America; I hope even to extend my travels
as far as the Rocky Mountains."

He had spoken in a hard, dull tone, never
once looking at his companion, but nervously
switching his riding-cane to and fro and
following its motion with his eyes. Each
sentence struck harder and harder on poor
Catherine's heart, and when the last abrupt
announcement was made, she was compelled
to stop, for her faltering limbs refused to
support her, a deadly pallor overspread her
countenance, and her lips quivered with the
vain attempt to articulate a sound,

Terrified out of his anger, Frank hastened
to support her, and gazed with stupified
amazement on an emotion such as he had
never before witnessed, while his heart smote
him for the selfishness of his reproaches.

"O, Kitty," cried Frank, passionately,
"forget what I have said. Of course, I know,
dear, you can't help it; I was a fool to hope
it; but you know, Kitty, every one in this
world is selfish but you."

"You shall know the whole truth," said
Kitty, who, in her anxiety to master her
emotion, hardly understood the import of his
words;" I have never trusted you and
repented of it, and, hard as it is, I will trust
you now."

"No, Kitty; I will know nothing; you
shall put no force upon yourself, dear. I
know that I am in every respect unworthy
your regard. I can well understand what a
distasteful companion I must be to a gentle
and accomplished woman like you."

"Frank, how can you talk so strangely?
you know the inequality is all on my side.
Listen to me a few moments, and I will try
to tell you my reasons, that you may not
think me altogether capricious and unworthy
your friendship. You see my father has
spent his life in such retirement that he
thinks and cares little about what is said or
done in the world. He is accustomed to see
you, and he loves you dearly. My aunt knows,
perhaps, something more about such things;
but, I daresay, if either of them thought about
it at all, they would consider that I was quite
your equal."

"Well," said Frank, earnestly, though not
impatiently.

"You see their affection for me would blind
them to the truth." Kitty spoke with
increasing effort, but still with a certain energy.
"I tried to speak to Lady Irwin, and to ask
her help; but I could not. I do not think it
is right to speak to you, Frank; but you will
help me, as you always have done, all your
life, and for the sake of our old, old
friendship. I cannot lose your friendship."

"Come what may, that will never be,
Kitty," said Frank, earnestly.

"Thank you for that comfort. And now
you understand my motives."

"Forgive me, dear, I do not understand
them in the least. You talk about the world
and about your father being blinded by his
affection for you; but I honestly confess
myself unable to make out the sequence of
ideas, or to see what bearing your observations
have on your refusal to go to London
with my mother."