Catherine came to his side, and stood, as usual, with her eyes fixed upon the ground, and her cheek painfully flushed. He took her hand and pressed it in his own, while he said—
“Catherine! you have heard all that passed between myself and Mrs. Clifton, this evening?”
A quick, short, but not ungraceful nod was all her answer.
“And you know that I am going away on a distant and dangerous service; I leave here very early in the morning—I may never come back, Catherine,” he said, slowly, looking at her steadily.
Her hand in his grew cold—her cheek paled—her heart stopped still as death—but no word did she speak in reply.
“Catherine! before I go, I intend to give you a command—do you hear me?”
A spasmodic nod was her reply.
“I may be gone many years. In the meanwhile you will grow up to womanhood, Catherine; do not have any lovers—beaux—as young girls call them, while I am away—and above all things, do not choose a husband without first consulting me through my mother.”
Not knowing what to reply to this, Catherine remained perfectly silent.
“Will you obey me in this, girl?” he asked, rather impatiently.