“I heard you were kept at home by indisposition, Miss Lorimer,” said he, “will you pardon me if I have availed myself of this opportunity of seeing you alone?” Kate was a little bewildered, but she murmured something about “the pleasure of seeing him,” etc. like a well-bred young lady. “Kate—Miss Lorimer—will you answer me frankly? I have lately indulged the hope that we may be united in a closer bond than even the friendship with which you have honored me; have I deceived myself with vain fancies?” Kate’s heart seemed to stand still for a moment, and an icy coldness ran through her veins. She saw it all in a moment. Clarence Ferrers wanted to learn from her his chance of success with her beautiful sister. What should she do? Louisa did not love Clarence, but it was a desirable match. Should she sacrifice the prospects of her sister, or should she betray the noble confidence of him who called her his friend? How could she decide when her own heart was just awakened to a dim sense of its own mad folly and weakness? Clarence watched her countenance, and marveled at the lights and shadows that flitted so rapidly across it. “I am afraid I have given you pain, Miss Lorimer,” said he at length: “I meant not to distress you; only tell me whether I have done wrong in believing that I might yet occupy a nearer and dearer place in your esteem; whether I have been mistaken in my hope of finding you my strongest advocate?” Kate felt that she must speak. “You can scarcely need an advocate,” said she timidly: “I presume I understand your meaning, and I can only say that any woman might be proud to be the object of your choice.” “And is this all you can say? Am I to think that on the empty gifts of fame, or the paltry advantages of fortune, I must depend for that most precious of earthly things, a sympathizing heart. ‘_Proud to be my choice_’—oh! Kate, I did not expect such a cold rebuff from you.” Tears rushed into Kate’s eyes; she felt herself growing weaker every moment, and she determined to put an end to the conversation. “Have you spoken to my sister, Mr. Ferrers?” said she, while she strove in vain to check the quick gasps that almost suffocated her. “To your sister!” said Clarence, in some surprise. “No, Miss Lorimer, I preferred coming first to you.” “I have but little influence over Louisa,” said the trembling girl, “but all that I have shall be exerted in your behalf.” “Louisa!—your sister!—I really do not comprehend you, Kate.” A momentary feeling of wounded pride aroused Kate, and mastered her coming weakness. She rose from her seat; “Did you not ask me to be your advocate with my sister?” asked she, while her cheek and lip grew white as ashes. “My advocate with your sister!” exclaimed Clarence; “no indeed: Kate! my own dearest Kate! it was with your own sweet self I wanted an advocate, and hoped to find my strongest one in your heart.”