"You must not exaggerate my troubles," returned Katherine, with a sweet bright smile on her lips and in her eyes that thanked him for his sympathy, even while she gently withdrew her hand. "I wish you would let me help you," said De Burgh; and as her lips parted to reply, he went on, hastily: "No, no; don't answer--not yet, at least. You will only say something disagreeable, in spite of your charming lips. Now I'll not intrude on you any longer. I suppose there is no objection to my calling on the young gentlemen at Miss Payne's, and taking them to a circus, or Madame Tussaud's, or any other dissipation suited to their tender years?" "My dear Lord de Burgh, what an infliction for you! and how very good of you to think of them! Pray do not trouble about them." "I understand," said De Burgh. "I'll leave my card for your chief below; and be sure you don't forget me when you are sending out cards. By-the-way, I have a pressing invitation to Castleford. When I write to refuse I'll say I have seen you, and that I am going to take charge of the boys during the holidays." "No, no; pray do not, Lord de Burgh," cried Katherine, eagerly. "You know Ada, and--" "Are you ashamed to have me as a coadjutor?" interrupted De Burgh, laughing. "Trust me; I will be prudent. Good-by for the present." Katherine stood in silent thought for a few moments after he had gone. She fully understood the meaning of his visit; though there had been little or nothing of the lover in his tone. He had come as soon as possible to place himself and all he had at her disposal. He was perfectly sincere in his desire to win her for his wife, and she almost regretted she could not return his affection: it might be true affection--something beyond and above the dominant whim of an imperious nature. And what a solution to all her difficulties! But it was impossible she could overcome the repulsion which the idea of marriage with any man she did not love inspired. There was to her but one in the world to whom she could hold allegiance, and _he_ was forbidden by all sense of self-respect and modesty. How was it that, strive as she might to fill her mind to his exclusion, the moment she was off guard the image of Errington rose up clear and fresh, pervading heart and imagination, and dwarfing every other object? "How miserably, contemptibly weak I am, and have always been! Why did I not stifle this wretched, overpowering attraction in the beginning?" Ay! but when did it begin? This is a sort of question no heart can answer. Who can foresee that the tiny spring, forcing its way up among the stones and heather of a lonely hill-side, will grow into the broad river, which may carry peace and prosperity on its rolling tide to the lands below, or overwhelm them with destructive floods, according to the forces which feed it and the barriers which hedge it in? CHAPTER XXX. "CIS AND CHARLIE."