h thee, and methought thou hadst already given him thy heart."

"No--no--no!" cried Kate, shrinking yet further away. "I had no
thoughts of him. O father, how couldst thou think it? He is a kind
friend; but I have thought him Cecilia's knight, and I trow she
thinks of him thus herself."

Lady Frances now spoke to her daughter for the first time, fixing
her eyes upon her, and addressing her with composure, although
visibly struggling against inward agitation.

"Listen to me, daughter Kate. Thou hast spoken words which, if they
refer not to Sir Robert, as thy father and I believed, have need to
be explained. Thou hast spoken of loving and of being beloved; what
dost thou mean by that? Who is he that has dared--"

"O mother, thou knowest that; thou hast heard it a hundred times.
It is Culverhouse, my cousin, who--"

But Sir Richard's face had clouded suddenly over. He had set his
heart on marrying Kate to his friend Sir Robert, who would, he
believed, make her an excellent husband; and he had long ago given
a half pledge to Lord Andover to thwart and oppose the youthful
attachment which was showing itself between Kate and Culverhouse.
The Earl wished a grand match for his son, and the Trevlyn pride
was strong in Sir Richard, who would never have had a daughter of
his wed where she was not welcome. He also disliked marriages
between first cousins, and made of that a pretext for setting his
face against the match, whilst remaining on perfectly friendly
terms with the Viscount and all his family. He had hoped and quite
made up his mind that that boy-and-girl fancy had been laid at rest
for ever, and was not a little annoyed at hearing the name of her
cousin fall so glibly from Kate's lips.

"Silence, foolish girl!" he said sternly. "Hast thou not been told
a hundred times to think no more of him? How dost thou dare to
answer thy mother thus? Culverhouse! thou knewest well that he is
no match for thee. It is wanton folly to let thy wayward fancy
dwell still on him. Methought thou hadst been cured of that
childish liking long since. But if it has not been so, thou shalt
soon be cured now!"

Kate shrank back, for her father had seldom looked so stern, and
there was an inflexibility about his aspect that was decidedly
formidable. No one knew better than his favourite daughter that
when once the limit of his forbearance was reached, there was no
hope of any further yielding, and that he could be hard as flint or
adamant;