ave to be civil to her."

"Why?" asked Katherine. "I can imagine her being an object of perfect
indifference; but dislike--no!"

"Well, dear, men never like that sort of women;--people, you know, who
eke out their living by--doing things, when they are plain and old.
Handsome adventuresses are quite another affair--they are amusing and
attractive."

"How absurd and unreasonable!"

"Yes, of course; they are all like that. Then he thinks Miss Payne has a
bad and dangerous influence on you. He disapproves of your living on
with her, for you don't take the position you ought, and--"

Katherine laughed good-humoredly as Mrs. Ormonde paused, not knowing
very well how to finish her speech. "Colonel Ormonde will hide the light
of his countenance from me, then, I am afraid, for a long time; for I
like Miss Payne, and I am going to stay with her for the period agreed
upon; and I will _not_ marry Mr. De Burgh, nor will I let him ask me to
do so, for there is a degree of honesty about him which I like. You may
repeat all this to your husband, Ada, and add that but for a lucky
chance his wife and myself would have been among the sort of women who
eke out their living by doing things. I don't think I should be afraid
of attempting self-support if all my money were swept away."

"Don't talk of such a thing!" cried Mrs. Ormonde, turning pale. "Thank
God what you have settled on the boys is safe!"

Katherine's half-contemptuous good humor carried her serenely through
this rather irritating visit, but the totally different train of thought
which it evoked assisted her to recover her ordinary mental tone. It
was, however, touched by a minor key of sadness, of humility (save when
roused by any moving cause to indignation), which gave the charm of soft
pensiveness to her manner.

Mrs. Ormonde was rather in a hurry to go back to town, as she had
important interviews impending with milliner and dressmaker prior to a
visit to Lady Mary Vincent at Cowes, from which she expected the most
brilliant results, for the little woman's social ambition grew with what
it fed upon. Nor did the rational repose of Katherine's life suit her.
Books, music, out-door existence, were a weariness, and in spite of her
loudly declared affection for her sister-in-law she found a curious
restraint in conversing with her.

They parted, therefore, with many kind expressions and much
satisfaction.

"I will write you an account of all our doings at Cowes. I e