“With me and with Fred,” said Mr Crediton. “He will be a son to me, Kate. He will not take you away from me. It is what I have wished for years. You will make us both very happy, my darling,” her father went on pleading. “Let me call him now.” “Oh, papa, let me go! He is out,” said Kate, in a kind of despair, raising herself from his arms. She wanted to get away to be by herself, to think what it all meant, and scarcely knew or understood what she said. “He cannot be far off. Let me go and find him,” said Mr Crediton; “you would make me so happy, Kate.” “Oh, papa, don’t kill me!--not now. I would do anything to make you happy; but not now--I cannot bear any more.” “Then, my darling, I will not press you; but later--when you have had time to think--say at five o’clock; come to me at five o’clock. You have made him very wretched and treated him very badly, and me too; but you will make it up to us, my own Kate?” “Please let me go,” she said, wearily, drawing herself out of his arms, and making visible a face which was no longer flushed and beautiful, but very pale, scared, marked with tears, and reluctant to face the light. “You shall go,” said her father, tenderly, leading her to the door. “But remember at five o’clock--promise that you will come at five o’clock.” “Whenever you please--what does it matter?” sighed poor Kate. He repeated the hour again in his anxiety, but she paid no attention. She ran up-stairs as soon as she had escaped from him, a little palefaced woe-begone ghost. Some one met her on the stairs, but she did not stop to see who it was. She did not even care to have her emotion perceived, as she would have done under other circumstances. She did not care for anything but getting to a shelter and hiding herself, and asking somebody (was it herself or some hidden counsellor she should find there?) what did it all mean?