“‘Proud?’ No, I am not proud. Why should I be? Do not mock me! Indeed I feel that you have conferred the greatest honor upon me in your preference. An offer of his hand is the highest mark of respect and confidence a man can give a woman; the world would think it higher still, coming from one of your rank to one of mine. I myself should in any case be proud of your regard, only—” “Well? ‘Only?’” “Only I feel so grieved to see you look so sorrowfully; but—” “Well, my dear girl, well! but what?” She paused, a slight blush suffused her cheek—she gathered courage and went on to say— “I do not know why I should not speak anything that may be upon my heart, at whatever cost to my natural feelings, if the hearing of it will do good to any human being. Yes! I will speak, for your sake. I do not fear to speak, for I have perfect confidence in you. Listen then, Colonel Conyers, dear friend. You are not the only one who has missed earthly happiness. I think it must be written in the book of fate, that we may not have those whom we love too deeply—in other words, that we may not have idols. It seems to me, that notwithstanding all other troubles, it would make us too happy, in an existence designed chiefly for trial and probation.” “That is a sad, strange, despairing sentiment, for one so young!” “No, not despairing—for if we may not have joy, there remain the peace and cheerfulness found in duty. And if we may not have the love of the heart’s idol, there remain the affection of relatives, the esteem of friends, the love of God, and the hope of Heaven.” “Catherine, you have loved. Tell me about it my child.” “I intended to tell you about it. It is the best proof of entire confidence and esteem that I can give you. It will show you how highly I value you, and it will assure you also, of the utter impossibility of getting a heart that is not mine to give—if it were worth giving.” She paused in great embarrassment, her cheeks were suffused with blushes, yet she seemed resolved to proceed. As if to assist her, he said— “This being whom you deify with your love, my child! what a splendid, what a magnificent nature he must have! what transcendant personal attractions! what an intellect! what a heart! Is it not so? tell me!” “Ah! no; you are mistaken; these things excite admiration and wonder, they do not of themselves win affection. Oh, no! he of whom you speak, is not so handsome as you are; he has no more mind than you have, and not so much heart—even _I_ admit that.” “And yet you love him, and can love him.” “Even so—do you wonder at it? Have not you passed by women—handsome, graceful, accomplished—to fix upon a plain country girl like me?” “Oh, but not women with your candor, purity and strength of mind. Oh, Kate! what depths of truth and innocence you have revealed in the very confession you have made me! Who else but yourself dared make such a revelation?” Catherine looked up at the speaker in doubt.