she
might send as many messages as she pleased, but the result would be the
same.

"I'll stay in my room!" Katrine threatened.

Dorothea laughed.

"It would make _no_ difference! He'd interview you through the door,
he'd say all that he _had_ to say, only--we should all overhear! It's
no use, Kitty, you might as well give in. When Jim Blair makes up his
mind it's useless to fight. He carries it through."

Not this time! Katrine said to herself. Not this time. Nevertheless
it seemed impossible to avoid the meeting. It had to come. Perhaps the
truest wisdom lay in getting it over. She looked at Dorothea, a deep
questioning glance, mutely imploring confidence, but Dorothea would
speak of nothing but such practical matters as baths, the temperature of
water, the opening and unpacking of trunks. Not once had she mentioned
Bedford's name. How much, how little, did Dorothea divine?

CHAPTER THIRTY.

Alone in the quaint un-English bedroom Katrine bathed and made her
toilette. Dorothea's loving hands had already opened the box which had
come safely through so many perils, and there, upon the topmost tray,
lay the clothes which had been packed with careful forethought for this
special occasion. A fine white gown of an elaborate simplicity which
bore the hall-mark of Grizel's taste, dainty shoes and stockings, the
touch of blue which was necessary to the success of any costume intended
for Katrine, even the large tortoise-shell pins for her hair. With what
expectation, what fond, shy hopes had they been laid together! It had
been with something like the reverence of a bride for her wedding robe,
that she had smoothed those folds. Katrine shivered. An overwhelming
pity rose in her heart, not alone for herself, but also for the good,
tender man for whom was stored so bitter a disappointment. Patient,
trustful Jim Blair, who was even now awaiting her coming with a lover's
eagerness and impatience! A moment later, her thoughts had flown back
on the wing of a feminine impulse to a still dearer personality.

On shipboard it had been difficult to attain a delicacy of toilette; she
had been swathed in veils, hot and wind-blown,--it was impossible to
strangle a truant wish that Bedford might see her now!

Katrine stood rigid by the doorway, gathering courage, then desperately
flung it open. The unfamiliar scent of the East assailed her nostrils,
that scent which even more than sight proclaimed a change o