In truth, Mrs. More was but a silly, ignorant woman, and her husband
was not much better, though he thought himself infinitely more clever
and sensible. In one thing, however, this couple were perfectly
agreed: it was in thinking their daughter, Kathleen, the most beautiful
and bewitching creature that the sun ever shone upon. They were so
foolishly proud of her that they resolved and declared that no one
short of a lord, or a rich baronet should ever marry her--that she
should become "my lady" somebody, or remain Kathleen More, to the day
of her death. They were strengthened in this resolution by a famous
fortune-teller, who foretold that Kathleen would become a grand
lady--live in a castle, ride in a coach, and have jewels and fine
dresses, ponies, pages, parrots, and poodle-dogs to her heart's content.

So they kept as keen a watch over her as though she had been a royal
princess, whose marriage was a great affair of state. They would
hardly allow her to speak to the young people of her own rank, but were
always telling her to hold her head high, and remember that she was "a
mate for their betters."

Of course, this ambition and pretension excited some ill feeling at
Killarney, and laughter and ridicule without end. But Kathleen was
truly a very beautiful young girl--so beautiful that her fame spread
far and wide, and toasts were made and songs were written in her
praise. Visitors to the Lakes used to inquire after her, and sometimes
hire their boatmen to land them near her father's cottage, so that they
might, by chance, catch a glimpse of "the Beauty of Glena." But
Kathleen was a good and sensible girl, and, strange to say, was not
spoiled by the constant flattery of her parents, and the evident
admiration of all who beheld her. She knew that she was very
beautiful,--every glance into the clear waters of the lake showed her
what sweet blue eyes, what lustrous black locks, what rosy, dimpled
cheeks were hers,--showed her that no lily could be fairer than her
brow, her neck, and her lovely taper [Transcriber's note: tapered,
tapering?] arms. Yet she knew also that this beauty was hers by no
merit, or power of her own; that it was the gift of the good God,
bestowed in kindness, though it brought her little happiness, poor
girl. Watched and guarded like a nun, she had few friends and little
pleasure, and often envied the humblest village maids and
farm-servants, as she saw them, strolling along the lake