The Bay State Monthly. Volume 2, No. 6, March, 1885

"She and I are the two extremes," returned the girl. "If Mr. Harwin is a minister, it will seem to me, as I told you, just as if you and Elizabeth had been divorced."

"Nonsense, love, you cannot separate what has never been joined together." He kissed away the tears that brimmed over from Katie's eyes. Yet as he did so, he was not sure that he had the right to do it, for the shadow of another woman seemed to come between them. He had confessed his dread to Elizabeth, but to this girl it was impossible; to her he must be all confidence. How different were these two women toward whom he stood in such peculiar relations, betrothed to one, possibly married to the other. If this last were true which of them would suffer the more? A week ago his imagination would not have seized upon Elizabeth's feelings at all; now he was convinced that it would be no less hard for her than for Katie; hard through her friendship and her pride. But this one's tender little heart would break. After all, it was only of her that he could think. The waiting was growing unendurable. Yet he felt that his father was right when he said that the easiest way, the shortest in the end, was to prove if possible that Harwin's story of his vocation was fabricated. Indeed, there was no case for appeal to the Court unless that were established. Let that fall through, and the lovers were free to marry.

"Have you heard" he asked after a time, "that Sir Temple and Lady Dacre have written that they are coming to visit us,—us, Katie? You remember they had an invitation to our wedding,—they shall have another, dearest,—and could not come then, but they propose paying us a visit in our own home at Seascape where they suppose we are living now, you and I. I told you about my staying with them in England and asking them to visit me when I was married. I was thinking then of my chances of being engaged to you, Katie."

"Yes, you told me of them," she said, and after a pause added, "You will have to write them the truth."

"It is too late for that to do any good. They follow close on the heels of the letter; that is, by the next ship."

"Then I suppose Aunt Faith will take them, either at your father's, or at Seascape. Which will it be, Stephen?"

"That house! It can never be opened until you do it, Katie; you know that well enough."

The girl sighed. Yet with all the sadness of her lot it was delightful to be loved and mourned over in this way; mourned over, and yet perhaps not lost.

"I don't know about that being the best way," she returned slowly. "You know Stephen, Uncle Walter is peculiar, and you could not entertain your guests yourself; you would not have freedom. Really, it would not be quite as nice for you."

"Always thinking of me," he cried. "It seems now that the only freedom I care about is the freedom to make you my wife, Katie."

"Yes," she sighed again and was silent a moment. Then she said, "But Stephen, if Aunt Faith is there, you know it won't be like anybody else, and you can show them the house I am going to have. Do you believe that?" she broke out suddenly. "Do you really believe that? This uncertainty is killing me—don't imagine that I could not wait for years, I am not dying for you, Stephen; I should not do such a thing, of course. But not to know! I must know soon; life is unendurable under such a strain."

"Poor little girl, she was not made, surely, to bear suffering," thought Archdale. And he went away assured that she was most of all to be pitied, that she was least protected from the North wind which was blowing against them all three. As to the house, she should certainly have her way about it. He saw that she was sacrificing her own feelings for him. She did not understand that it was making matters a great deal harder, she thought that she was making it pleasanter for him. Well, she should have the satisfaction of believing she had done so. It did not occur to him that the girl had taken the most effectual way of awaking a sentimental interest in the persons who were imagining that they were to be her guests. Katie was one of those people who illustrate the use of the velvet glove, for in spite of her sprightliness, she was considered the gentlest little creature in the Colonies.

Chapter XIII—Over the Threshold

Florence, Lady Dacre, with her hand on Archdale's arm walked across the plank from ship to shore, her husband on the other side of her and her maid following with Sir Temple's valet, who was devotedly carrying all the bundles, and interspersing his useful attentions with auguries as to the "hignorance of the Hamerican Colonies." Lady Dacre walked on with a light step, and eyes that took note of every thing.

"So, this is Boston?" she said. "I have always wanted to see it. You will think me in fun, but really, do you know, it has an odd sort of aggressive look to me! We imagine a certain humility in Colonies, but your people are more English than Englishmen. That is your carriage, there on the pier? How kind in you to come for us. And that is your coachman? Now, even he has a look that, on the whole, he is as good as you."

"He does not feel so," returned Archdale, smiling.

"Oh, no, I suppose not; it must be the exhilirating air that gives people that appearance. Such a sky as there is to-day! Do you have beautiful weather like this all the time?"

"No, sometimes we have a thunder shower."

Sir Temple laughed.

"Good enough for you, Florence," he cried. "What are you so absurd for?"

"For fun. I suppose you know Governor Shirley?" she added after an instant.

"Slightly. But he is an intimate friend of Mr. Royal,—one of my father's friends."

"Ah! yes. Well, what is the difference?"

"Then, last year," said Sir Temple, "we met some people in London." He named several whom Archdale knew.

"And there are two others here now," cried Lady Dacre, "or perhaps I ought not to say two persons, but one and his shadow. People call him a reckless sort of a fellow—the man, not the shadow,—but I think him charming. It is Mr. Edmonson, the best whist player I ever saw."

"And Lord Bulchester?"

"Ah! you know them. Perhaps we are going to meet them at your house? That will be delightful."

"Lady Dacre has a perfect passion for whist," explained her husband.

"You will certainly meet them there if they will do me the honor to become my guests," returned Archdale. Then something that he had heard came back to him, and brought a sudden frown to his face, but it was too late to retract. So, after he had made his friends comfortable at an inn, for they were to dine before starting on their journey, he wrote his invitation and dispatched it by his servant with instructions to bring back an answer. "If the rumor I heard is true, he will not accept," he said to himself.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

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