"You!—married!" exclaimed Katherine. "Then why are you still called Miss Monroe?"
"There are certain circumstances which compel me to keep my marriage a secret. When you come to Markham Place—as you must—you will see my father; but never in his presence, nor in that of Richard when he returns home, may you speak of me as a wife. And now do you know why I have told you this? Because, as I am determined that you shall come and pass at least a few days with me you will see my child——"
"Oh! Ellen, are you indeed a mother?" cried Katherine. "Are you not devotedly attached to your child? do you not fondle—play with it?"
"I am never wearied of its little company," answered Ellen. "It is a boy, and named after our mutual benefactor Richard. And now you know my secret. But tell me, Kate, wherefore you wish to remain pent up in this secluded dwelling? Has some happy youth in the neighbourhood touched your heart? You do not answer me. I cannot see you where you are; but I'll wager that you are blushing. Oh! if there be any truth in my suspicion, let it be revelation for revelation. We are friends—and you may confide in me."
"I know not how to answer you, Ellen;—and yet——"
"And yet you have a secret," returned the young wife, laughing; "oh! yes—you have a secret—and you must make me your confidant."
"I am willing to tell you all that relates to this foolish affair," said Katherine; "but that all is very little."
And she hesitated,—suffused with blushes even in the nook whither Ellen's eyes were not directed!
"Nay, continue," exclaimed Ellen. "I perceive that you are about to interest me with the commencement of a charming little love-tale. Seriously speaking, Kate—you will lose nothing by entrusting your secret to one who may be enabled to give you some useful counsel in a matter which is of far greater moment than young persons of our sex are induced to believe?"
"I will conceal nothing from you, Ellen," returned Katherine, in a low and timid tone. "It was only at the commencement of last week that I was rambling in the neighbourhood—on as fine a day as this one has been—when I met a young gentleman, who was crossing the same field as myself, but in an opposite direction. The path was very narrow; and he stood on one side to allow me to pass. I bowed in acknowledgment of his politeness, and he raised his hat. The glance that I threw upon him was of course only momentary; and I passed on. I thought no more of the incident——"