Her curiosity aroused, she noiselessly descended to the first landing,

and, leaning over the balustrade, saw a small man, with dark olive skin,

standing close to Walcott, with whom he was talking excitedly. He spoke

rapidly in Spanish. Kate caught only one word, "Señora," as he handed a

note to Walcott, at the same time pointing backward over his shoulder

towards the entrance. Kate saw Walcott grow pale as he read the missive,

then, with a muttered curse, he started for the door, followed by the

other.

Quickly descending to the next landing, where there was an alcove window

looking out upon the driveway, Kate could see a closed carriage standing

before the entrance, and Walcott, holding the door partially open,

talking with some one inside. The colloquy was brief, and, as Walcott

stepped back from the carriage, the smaller man, who had been standing

at a little distance, sprang in hastily. As he swung the door open for

an instant Kate had a glimpse of a woman on the rear seat, dressed in

black and heavily veiled. As the man closed the door Walcott stepped to

the window for a word or two, then turned towards the house, and the

carriage rolled rapidly down the driveway. Kate slowly ascended the

stairs, listening for Walcott, who entered the house, but, instead of

coming upstairs, passed through the lower hall, going directly to a

private room of Mr. Underwood's in which he received any who happened to

call at the house on business.

Kate went to her room, her pulse beating quickly. She felt intuitively

that something was wrong; that here was revealed a phase of Walcott's

personality which she in her innocence had not considered, had not even

suspected. She knew that her father believed him to be a moral man, and

hitherto she had regarded the lack of affinity between herself and him

as due to a sort of mental disparity--a lack of affiliation in thought

and taste. Now the conviction flashed upon her that the disparity was a

moral one. She recalled the sense of loathing with which she

instinctively shrank from his touch; she understood it now. And within

two hours she was to have married this man! Never!

Passing a large mirror, she paused and looked at the reflection there.

Was her soul, its purity and beauty symbolized by her very dress, to be

united to that other soul in its grossness and deformity? Her cheek

blanched with horror at the thought. No! that fair body should perish

first, rather than soul or body ever be contaminated by his touch!

Her decision was taken from that moment, and it was irrevocable.

Nothing--not even her father's love or anger, his wishes or his

commands--could turn her now, for, as he himself boasted, his own blood

flowed within her veins.




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