never allowed anybody, not even
Peter, dearest of all, to come into the cave or sit on the bench
afterward. What her childish fancy of an unknown friend was, or how
it grew and altered with her years, only she knew, though after she
was grown she told her father of a certain Sir Guy in some of his
crusading stories in whom she had believed as a fact. "I actually
thought he would come to woo me," she said laughing, "and I had a
castle where I sat and waited for him. There never was a child so full
of absurd fancies."

But she never said where the castle was, and she was fond still of
sitting alone for hours on the old bench, over which the shade grew
heavier year by year, and the moonlight crept with more mysterious
glitter. She came in sometimes when she had been there in the evening,
and the sound of old Peter's violin alone broke the silence, with her
cheeks feverish, as though there had been an actual presence with her
to share her secret thoughts. The only living being she had ever taken
into her hiding-place was, oddly enough, a baby of whom she was fond.
It happened to fall asleep in her arms one day, and Catharine stole
out with it and sat on the old seat, feeling its warm breath on
her breast. The girl was shaken by an emotion which she did not
understand: her blood grew hot, her breath came and went, she stroked
the baby's hand and foot, kissed it, glanced about her with eyes
guilty yet pure.

But it is certain Kitty had no thought of her cave this afternoon. Mr.
Muller and his affairs were quite another matter. There was an awkward
silence. Mr. Muller was collecting his forces: he cleared his throat.
"Catharine--" he said.

"Ah, William!" cried a clear, well-toned voice behind them. He turned,
half annoyed and half relieved, to meet a young lady in gray, stepping
alertly from the doorway of the Water-cure House.

"Maria? This is my sister Maria, Miss Vogdes."

The lady looked at Kitty--a steady, straightforward look--then held
out her hand. It was a large, warm, hearty hand, and gripped yours
like a man's. Kitty took it, but felt like shirking the eyes. She
had no mind to be so weighed and measured. She had an uncomfortable
consciousness that her inner nature was all bared and sorted by this
agreeable young woman in this first moment to the last odd and end in
it, though she could not have put the consciousness into words.

"Going to the school, William? I am."

"Well--yes, we will go there." He turn