d me your name."

"Josephine. I am called Josephine."

"But you have another name. I am called Catherine, but I am also
Bertram. What are you besides Josephine?"

"Ah, that's trenching into the darkness where you wouldn't like to find
yourself. That's light for me, but dark ruin for you. Don't ask me what
my other name is."

"Listen," said Catherine, suddenly, "you want to see my mother?"

"Yes, I certainly want to see her."

"Listen again. I am absolutely determined that you shall not see her."

"But I have a message for her."

"You shall not see her. My mother is not well. I stand between my mother
and trouble. I know you are going to bring her trouble; and you shall
not see her."

"How can you prevent me?"

"In this way. My mother is away from home. I will take care that she
does not return until you have left this place. I am determined."

"Is that true?" asked the girl. "Is she really away from home?"

"Am I likely to tell you a lie? My mother is from home."

The strange girl had been sitting on the grass. Now she rose, pushed
back her thick hair, and fixed her eyes on Catherine. Catherine again
noticed the singular brightness, the half-wild light in her eyes.
Suddenly it was quenched by great tears. They splashed down on her
cheeks, and made clean channels where the dust had lain.

"I am deadly tired," she said, with a half moan.

"Listen, Josephine," said Catherine. "You shall not spend your night
here. You shall not stay to see my mother. I will take you down to the
lodge and wake up Tester, and his wife shall get a bed ready for you,
and you shall sleep there, and in the morning you are to go away. You
can have breakfast before you start, but afterwards you are to go away.
Do you promise me? Do you agree to this?"

The girl muttered something, and Catherine took her hand and led her
down to the lodge.

CHAPTER X.

THE REASON OF THE VISIT.

On the evening of the next day Mrs. Bertram came home. She looked very
tired and worn, but her manner to her children was less stern, and more
loving than usual. Loftus, in especial, she kissed with rare tenderness;
and even for one brief moment laid her head on her tall son's broad
shoulder, as if she wanted to rest herself there.

On the evening of her mother's return Catherine was particularly bright
and cheerful. As a rule, Catherine's will and her mother's were two
opposing elements. Now they were one. This conjunction of two strong
will