These sentiments had governed her during the interview at the bridge. No true woman takes pleasure in the suffering of an unfortunate lover. Kate had, on that occasion, thought more of her cousin’s disappointment than of Major Gordon. But, when she had reached Sweetwater, and was left to solitary thought in the privacy of her chamber, she saw that, in trying to save the feelings of Aylesford, she had hurt those of her preserver. Her momentary anger at the latter’s coldness gradually subsided, and when she met him, on the following day, she returned his bow, as we have seen, with all her old cordiality.

Kate was sitting alone in the parlor, to which we have already introduced the reader, on Monday morning, when her cousin entered the apartment. Something in his manner betrayed to her that he sought a private interview. Her heart began to beat fast.

Aylesford, for a minute or two, did not speak. He walked, in an embarrassed way, to the window; looked out a moment, glanced at Kate, and then tattooed on the panes with his fingers; and, finally, turning abruptly towards her, said—

“How is it, Kate, that you have compromised the family, by permitting this Major Gordon to visit here so frequently? His rebel commission surely ought to shut your doors against him.”

Kate’s color, which had been heightened ever since Aylesford entered, flushed to a still deeper crimson at these words. But, having determined, while remaining firm to her purpose, to do everything else to conciliate her cousin, she paused awhile before replying, in order to command voice and judgment alike.

“I do not see, Charles,” she said, finally, “that I have compromised the family. Major Gordon, though not a royalist, is a gentleman, and entitled to the civilities due to all such. In addition,” she added, with another blush, “he deserves particular attention at our hands; you yourself must admit this.”

“I don’t admit any such thing,” answered her cousin, nettled alike by her quiet manner and by her words. “He helped to save your life, I know; but so would any other person in his place. I myself,” he added, with an outburst of really natural feeling, “would have given my right hand to have been there, and risked my life also for you.”

Kate was touched.

“I believe you,” she said, with a voice full of feeling.

To do him justice, Aylesford loved her with all the passion of his illy regulated nature, and when he heard this reply, and saw Kate’s emotion, what was good in him awoke responsive to it. He fell upon his knee, by a sudden impulse, and seizing her hand, said—