"You say she is not your mother?" I added, returning to the point I had twice left.
"She was my father's wife, but she is not my mother."
"She is your step-mother," I continued, as the light flooded my dull brain.
"She is; I do not wish to speak ill of her, but I do wish to keep away from her. She is not kind to me, to say the very least."
I pitied her, and I saw by Bob's looks that he was not at all behind me in the outflow of his sympathy. I had read stories enough about "awful step-mothers" to form an idea of Kate's situation, though I had no prejudices against step-mothers, as such. Bob Hale's father had married a second wife, but Bob and his sister would never have known from her treatment of them, that she was not their own mother.
If Kate was not a very pretty girl, she was certainly a very interesting one. Her form was grace itself, but her eyes were all that was pretty about her face; and when I looked at her I was not willing to believe it possible that any one, and especially one bearing her father's name, could ill-treat her.
By this time the boat had gone to the farther corner of the lake, and it was necessary to brace her up or come about. I went aft to take the helm, and Kate followed me, taking a seat at my side. I put the tiller hard down, and the Splash came about, heading towards Cannondale. Our passenger was quick to discern the course, and became quite excited again.
"You are taking me home again!" exclaimed she. "O, Ernest Thornton! you will not do that. Let me land here, anywhere, even on that island, but do not give me back to her."
"I don't know what to do, Miss Loraine; but I think you ought to have dry clothes at once."
"Have pity upon me, and do not take me home," pleaded she.