d the next minute, seeing those wonderful eyes of hers
fixed on me with a peculiar thoughtfulness, I asked her what was she
thinking of, and found she was studying 'how I did that lovely French
twist in my back hair.' No. There's nothing in her--nothing. Not an
idea; but that I did not expect. But not even a feeling or principle to
take hold of. Take my word, William. You are going to marry fine eyes
and pink cheeks. Nothing more."

Mr. Muller cared for nothing more. If there had been an answering hint
of fire in eyes or cheeks to the rush of emotion he felt at the sight of
them, he would have been content. But Catharine's face was very like a
doll's just now--the eyes as bright and unmeaning, the pink as
unchanging. In vain he brought her flowers; in vain, grown wiser by
love, led her out in the moonlight to walk, or, flushed and quaking
himself, read in a shrill, uncertain voice absurd fond little sonnets he
had composed to her. Kitty was always attentive, polite and indifferent.
She never went to her old seat during the whole summer, never opened one
of the old books over which she and Peter used to pore. He showed her a
new edition of the _Pilgrim's Progress_ one day, with illustrations:
"See what Bell and Daldy have done for our old friend, Catharine."

"This allegory all seems much ado about nothing," she said presently,
filliping over the leaves. "Really, I can't see that there is any
wilderness in the world, or devils to fight in or out of pits. At least
for me."

Speculations on life from Kitty! A month ago she would have gone no
farther than the pictures. "There's nothing worse for me than nice
dresses and a wedding, and three hundred children to bring up for the
Lord, with a smell of beef-and-cabbage over it all. Good gracious!
Don't you know I'm joking, father?" seeing his face. She laughed and
hugged him, and hugged him again. "As for the children, I love them of
course, poor little wretches!"

Peter scowled over her back as she hung on him. Was it sheer silliness?
Or had certain doors in her nature never been opened, even enough for
her to know all that lay behind them? He pushed her off, holding her by
both wrists: "Are you quite willing to marry Mr. Muller? Do you love
him? Think what it is to marry without love. For God's sake tell me,
Catharine!"

"Yes, I love him. Certainly. Why," kindling into animation, "I've worn
his ring for a month. Haven't you seen it?" turning her hand about and
looking a