“Well, are you not going to answer it?” asked Mrs. Clifton, adding, “The servant waits.”
“Oh! answer it! yes! what is it about?” he exclaimed, starting out of his reverie, and glancing at the note again. Then he arose, penned a hasty excuse, and delivering it to the messenger, dispatched him. Returning from this business, he said, “No, I cannot leave home this evening; since I have come to a decision, I wish to have a good, confidential talk with my little Kate. How much I have to say to her, how much to draw from her, if I can. What a prison delivery of thought and emotion it must be on both sides, if I can get her to talk! But she is so shy, except when under some strong, disinterested feeling for another. Move her sympathies, and she forgets herself and loses all reserve, otherwise—she is so shy.”
“Yes, very, very shy, to you. Kate’s heart and brain are sealed volumes to you. It will require the easy intimacy of long, domestic companionship, to find out all her excellencies. Her husband will love and esteem her far more dearly and highly than ever lover has done—but hush, here she comes.”
The door opened, and Catherine entered, from her morning’s household duties, with her little basket of keys hanging on her arm.
“Come hither, dear Kate,” said Major Clifton, holding out his hand. Catherine put her little basket in its place, and quietly went to his side. He encircled her waist with his arm, and holding both her hands captive in his own, looked fondly in her face till she dropped her eyes in confusion, and then he said, “Dear Kate, my mother here, who loves you almost as much as I do, if that were possible, wants to know when you will make us both happy, by becoming my wife and her daughter.”
He paused for an answer, never removing his eyes from their gaze upon her glowing cheek.
“Yes, I am very anxious to know what day you will give yourself to us entirely, dear child!” said Mrs. Clifton, and she also paused for a reply.
Catherine, in extreme confusion, glanced from one to the other, and finally dropped her eyes again.
“Come, dearest Kate, it is but a word—the name of some day in the week whispered very low,” said Major Clifton, in her ear.
“Yes, let it be soon; let it be within a week, dear child. My time is short, Kate, and I wish to bless your marriage before I go hence. You know I told you that I could calculate the progress of decay, and the length of life with some accuracy, and I tell you now that my days are numbered.”