up, and placed his
soaked umbrella in the rack. With a book under his arm, he came quickly
toward the girl, saying:

"Good-evening, Kathrien. How's Willem?"

Kathrien tried to hide her tears; but it was impossible to elude the
keen eyes of Dr. McPherson. In one quick glance he caught the situation.

"What's the matter?" he said curtly.

"Nothing," said Kathrien in a voice whose tremble she could not control;
yet bravely wiping away her tears as she spoke. "I was only thinking--I
was hoping that those we love--and lose--can't see us here. I'm
beginning to believe there's not much happiness in _this_ world."

The doctor looked at her with affectionate reproof, much as if she had
been a naughty child.

"Why, you little snip!" he said whimsically, as he pulled her toward him
determinedly. "I've a notion to chastise you! Talking like that with the
whole of life before you! Such cluttered nonsense!"

Still talking he started toward the stairs and Willem's room, and
Kathrien sank into a chair; but the doctor changed his mind, turned, and
came back to her again.

"Kathrien, I understand you've not a penny to your name," he said
gruffly, "unless you marry Frederik. He has inherited you--along with
the orchids and the tulips."

He put his arm around her with a gentle, protective movement as he went
on:

"Don't let that influence you. If Peter's plans bind you--and you look
as if they did--my door's open. Don't let the neighbours' opinions and a
few silver spoons," glancing towards the wedding gifts, "stand in the
way of your whole future."

Having thus opened his warm Scotch heart and his home to the motherless
girl, it was indicative of his character that he should give her no
chance to thank him. Before she could speak, he had run up the stairs,
placed his cigar on the little table in the upper hall, and hurried into
Willem's room.

Outside the sky grew blacker and blacker, darkening the room where
Kathrien sat. Suddenly she rose from her chair, and stretching out her
arms, gave a cry that was dragged from her very soul.

"Oh! Oom Peter, Oom Peter, why did you do it? _Why_ did you do it?"

She looked all at once a woman. No longer the carefree, happy girl she
had been but a few short weeks before. Standing thus, her beautiful face
full of agony, she did not hear Marta as she came in from the
dining-room to carry upstairs the dainty wedding clothes for the
morrow--a mass of filmy, fluffy white, laid carefully