future
happiness. Listen to me, Kate: have I not always planned and worked for
your best interests?"

"You always have, papa."

"Have I not always chosen what was for your good and for your
happiness?"

Kate gave a silent assent.

"Very well; then I think you can trust to my judgment in this case."

"But, papa," she protested, "this is different. I never can love that
man; I abhor him--loathe him! Do you think there can be any happiness or
good in a marriage without love? Would you and mamma have been happy
together if you had not loved each other?"

No sooner had she spoken the words than she regretted them as she noted
the look of pain that crossed her father's face. In his silent,
undemonstrative way he had idolized his wife, and it was seldom that he
would allow any allusion to her in his presence.

"I don't know why you should call up the past," he said, after a pause,
"but since you have I will tell you that your mother when a girl like
yourself objected to our marriage; she thought that we were unsuited to
each other and that we could never live happily together. She listened,
however, to the advice of those older and wiser than she, and you know
the result." The strong man's voice trembled slightly. "I think our
married life was a happy one. It was for me, I know; I hope it was for
her."

A long silence followed. To Kate there came the memory of the frail,
young mother lying, day after day, upon her couch in the solitude of her
sick-room, often weeping silently, while she, a mere child, knelt sadly
and wistfully beside her, as silently wiping the tear-drops as they fell
and wondering at their cause. She understood now, but not for worlds
would she have spoken one word to pain her father's heart.

At last Mr. Underwood said, rising as though to end the interview, "I
think I can depend upon you now, Kate, to carry out my wishes in this
matter."

Kate rose proudly. "I have never disobeyed you, papa; I will treat Mr.
Walcott courteously; but even though you force me to marry him I will
never, never love him, and I shall tell him so."

Her father smiled. "Mr. Walcott, I think, has too much good sense to
attach much weight to any girlish whims; that will pass, you will think
differently by and by."

As she stopped for her usual good-night kiss she threw her arms about
her father's neck, and, looking appealingly into his face, said,--

"Papa, it need not be very soon, need it? You are not in a hurry t