But you do not know with what pain I write this, Archer! I cannot pursue the subject—only regard for you, and fidelity to your interests, would have drawn me to its discussion. I advise you to come home and look after your own welfare!” What influence this had upon Major Clifton, will be seen in the sequel. And while Georgia was exercising her power abroad, she was busy at home also. Having heard or guessed at Colonel Conyer’s “foolish” attachment to Catherine, she wrote and invited him to make up a party of his own friends, and come down and spend Christmas with her. And the gallant officer, delighted with this quintessence and perfection of confidence and hospitality—this _carte blanche_ to be filled up at his own pleasure, wrote and most gratefully accepted the invitation for himself and “friends.” CHAPTER XXVII. CATHERINE. Now has descended a serener hour—KEATS. Colonel Conyers exercised tact and discretion in availing himself of the privilege granted him by Georgia. In consideration of the recent affliction of the family, he made up a very quiet and appropriate party—namely, the lady’s father, the artist, a pale young clergyman who was suffering for country air, and the wife and sister of the latter. After his arrival at White Cliffs, Mrs. Georgia gave him every opportunity of renewing his acquaintance with Catherine, and every encouragement to persist in his suit. Girls, she said, were often whimsical, and Catherine was especially shy, but disposed to think highly of her suitor, and well worth the trouble of perseverance. Colonel Conyers thereupon grew importunate, and Catherine became distressed at his persistance, and announced her intention of returning to Hardbargain. When her lover heard this, his grief seemed unbounded—he had so long counted on success, so long been deceived by Mrs. Georgia’s assurances, and by Catherine’s gentleness of denial, that now when his hopes were quite overthrown, he became passionate and vehement in his demonstrations of sorrow. His trouble affected Catherine very deeply. She went and sat down by him, and laid her hand upon his shoulder, and said, in her gentle sympathetic tones— “Do not grieve so; indeed I am not worth so much love or so much regret—indeed I am not—I am a poor girl, very ignorant of society, very full of weakness and error.” “Oh, Catherine! Catherine! that is nothing to the purpose! You are what you are, and I adore you! Do not make me wretched.” “Heaven knows I do not wish to! I am your friend—_indeed_ I am. I would do anything in the world to give you peace, indeed I would—except—” “Except love me, proud girl!”