pectedly into her room; her table
was littered with the latest books from Mudie's, and the newest pieces
lay upon her music-stand. Nothing which attention and thoughtfulness
could do was left undone either by the father or the son.

In spite of these attentions, however, and the frequent solicitations of
her guardian, Kate stood firmly to her colours. If the Tom of the
present were false, she at least would be true to the memory of the Tom
of other days, the lad who had first whispered words of love into her
ears. Her ideal should remain with her whatever might befall. No other
man could ever take the place of that.

That Tom was from some unexplained and unaccountable reason false to her
appeared to be beyond all question. Her trusting and innocent heart
could not dream of the subtle network which was being wound round her.
Her secluded life had left her very ignorant of the ways of the world,
and the possibility of an elaborate deceit being practised upon her had
never occurred to her. From the day that she heard the extract of the
letter read by her guardian she never doubted but that such letters were
received at the office by the man who professed to love her. How could
she hesitate to believe it when it was confirmed by his avoidance of
Eccleston Square and of herself? The cause of it all was a mystery
which no amount of speculation could clear up. Sometimes the poor girl
would blame herself, as is the way of women in such cases. "I have not
seen enough of the world," she would say to herself. "I have none of
the charms of these women whom I read of in the novels. No doubt I
seemed dull and insipid in his eyes. And yet--and yet--" There always
remained at the end of her cogitations the same vague sense of
bewilderment and mystery.

She endeavoured as far as possible to avoid Ezra Girdlestone, and stay
in her room for the most part on the days when he was at home. He had,
however, on the advice of his father, ceased pressing his suit except in
the silent manner aforementioned, so that she gradually took courage,
and ended by resuming her old habits. In her heart she pitied the young
merchant very sincerely, for he was looking haggard and pale.
"Poor fellow," she thought as she watched him, "he certainly loves me.
Ah, Tom, Tom! had you only been as constant, how happy we should be!"
She was even prompted sometimes to cheer Ezra up by some kind word or
look. This he naturally took to be an encourag