“I know you have come to bring me many comforts, and to cook my dinner, and clean up my house, and make me very comfortable, you good girl, my dear little Brownie!” Catherine moved about, in her quick and quiet way—filled and put on the kettle—for the old man would always have his cup of tea—and set the table, placing all the little rarities she had brought upon it. When all was ready, and they sat down, the old man found leisure to observe that Kate ate nothing, and looked pale and thoughtful. “What is the matter, my dear Kate?—you who are _always_ serious, are _now_ positively sorrowful! What is it?” Kate, who was truth itself whenever she spoke, chose for that reason to give no answer. The old man looked more and more disturbed, and laying down his knife and fork, said— “Nay, but Catherine, my dear child, there is something the matter! I do not wish to intrude on your confidence, but if you have any trouble that you think I may possibly be able to soothe—confide in me, as if I were your own father, my child.” “Dear Mr. Saunders, don’t trouble your good heart about my cloudy face. Sure and hasn’t a poor girl the same right to her smoke that a wealthy young lady has to her vapors?” said Kate, smiling. The old minister did not press his question, but resumed his knife and fork with a look of mortification that worried Catherine, so that she said— “I will tell you, then, what troubles me. My dearest, best friend and patron, Captain Clifton, has bidden me good-bye, and departed for the frontier! That is bad—oh, yes!—very bad. But that is not the worst. He has gone away very unhappy. I might as well tell you what everybody will soon know:—his marriage is broken off! He has gone away in anger with his promised bride. He has gone away so wretched! Mr. Saunders, when I saw him last night, looking so pale, and stern, and proud—and knew the haughtiness and the anguish of his heart, I thought I could have died to have restored peace and joy between him and her he loved so strongly.” “Merciful Heaven!—those Cliftons! This is another instance of their fatal subjection to passion! Do you know, my dear child, what caused this quarrel?” “I know nothing but this—the marriage is broken off for the present! I do not know wherefore.” “Some jealous suspicion of one party or the other! Those Cliftons all have Spanish blood in them, and the Spanish character is uppermost in their nature. They are all haughty, reserved, jealous, suspicious.” “Ah, but they are full of courage, magnanimity and benevolence,” said Catherine. “Archer Clifton is of a very jealous and suspicious nature—was his betrothed inclined to coquetry?”