ading lawyers of the State if he kept
on.

With the closing of the door upon her father, Kate threw herself upon
her lounge. One by one the salient features of her interview with Harry
passed in review: his pleading for some word of comfort; some note of
forgiveness with which to cheer the hours of his exile.--"You are the
last thing I kiss before I close my eyes." Then his open defiance of her
expressed wishes when they conflicted with his own set purpose of going
away and staying away until he made up his mind to return. While the
first brought with it a certain contented satisfaction--something she
had expected and was glad of--the last aroused only indignation and
revolt. Her brow tightened, and the determination of the old seadog--her
grandfather Barkeley--played over her countenance. She no longer, then,
filled Harry's life, controlling all his actions; she no longer inspired
his hopes. Rather than marry her he would work as a common sailor.
Yes--he had said so, and with his head up and his voice ringing brave
and clear. She was proud of him for it--she had never been so proud of
him--but why no trace of herself in his resolve; except in his allusion
to the duel, when he said he would do it again should any one insult
her? It was courteous, of course, for him to feel that way, however much
she abhorred the system of settling such disputes. But, then, he would
do that for any other woman--would, no doubt, for some woman he had not
yet seen. In this he was the son of his father and the same Harry--but
in everything else he was a changed man--and never more changed than in
his attitude toward her.

With these thoughts racking her brain she rose from the lounge and began
pacing the floor, peering out between the curtains of her room, her
eyes wandering over the park as if she could still see him between
the branches. Then her mind cleared and the true situation developed
itself:--for months she had hugged to herself the comforting thought
that she had only to stretch out her hand and bring him to her feet. He
had now looked her full in the face and proclaimed his freedom. It was
as if she had caged a bird and found the door open and the prisoner
singing in a tree overhead.

That same night she sat by her wood fire in her chamber, her old black
mammy--Mammy Henny--bending close, combing out her marvellous hair. She
had been studying the coals, watching the little castles pile and fall;
the quick smothering of slow