Mrs. Mason checked her tears and looked on wonderingly. This strange outburst of grief almost irritated her, for, like her child, she rather craved a monopoly of suffering. All at once a wild apprehension seized upon her. What if Kate had heard—what if she knew that the brig had gone down with every soul on board, and had no strength to speak it out! Frightened by this new dread she started up and stood over the weeping girl.
"Tell me—tell me all you have heard," she almost shrieked. "If you don't want to see me drop dead at your feet, before the face of my child, speak out!"
Katharine looked up; amazement checked her tears, and the pupils of her beautiful eyes dilated.
"I have nothing to say, Mrs. Mason; I have not heard a syllable, how could I?"
"And are you so very sorry for us?"
"Does it make you angry, because I can't keep back the tears? Oh, it seems as if I could die, if any one would feel for me."
"Why, Katharine, what is your trouble?"
"Nothing—nothing—I'm not in trouble."
Mrs. Mason began to look serious, an old suspicion flashed across her mind. She was not a woman of much natural refinement, and the innate vanity of her nature more than compassion spoke out in her next words.
"Katharine, speak out—is it about Nelson Thrasher you are taking on so?"