society on such occasions, and thrown the whole blame on Neil. Somehow,
in her secret heart, she even blamed Lysbet a little. "Ever since I told
her there was an earldom in the family, she's been daft to push her
daughter into it," was her frequent remark to the elder; and he also
reflected that the proposed alliance of Neil and Katharine had been
received with coolness by Joris and Lysbet. "It was the soldier or the
dominie, either o' them before our Neil;" and, though there was no
apparent diminution of friendship, Semple and his wife frequently had a
little private grumble at their own fireside.

And toward Neil, Joris had also a secret feeling of resentment. He had
taken no pains to woo Katherine until some one else wanted her. It was
universally conceded that he had been the first to draw his sword, and
thus indulge his own temper at the expense of their child's good name
and happiness. Taking these faults as rudimentary ones, Lysbet could
enlarge on them indefinitely; and Joris had undoubtedly been influenced
by his wife's opinions. So, below the smiles and kind words of a long
friendship, there was bitterness. If there had not been, Janet Semple
would hardly have paid that morning visit; for before Lysbet was half
way down the stairs, Katherine heard her call out,--

"Here's a bonnie come of. But it is what a' folks expected. 'The
Dauntless' sailed the morn, and Captain Earle wi' a contingent for the
West Indies station. And who wi' him, guess you, but Captain Hyde, and
no less? They say he has a furlough in his pocket for a twelvemonth:
more like it's a clean, total dismissal. The gude ken it ought to be."

So much Katherine heard, then her mother shut to the door of the
sitting-room. A great fear made her turn faint and sick. Were her
father's words true? Was this the meaning of the mysterious wave of the
folded paper toward the ocean? The suspicion once entertained, she
remembered several little things which strengthened it. Her heart failed
her; she uttered a low cry of pain, and tottered to a chair, like one
wounded.

It was then ten o'clock. She thought the noon hour would never come.
Eagerly she watched for Bram and her father; for any certainty would be
better than such cruel fear and suspense. And, if Richard had really
gone, the fact would be known to them. Bram came first. For once she
felt impatient of his political enthusiasm. How could she care about
liberty poles and impressed fishermen, with su