She never spoke to her father about what Ned had said; for Ned had told her that he did not wish to ask her of him until he could look him in the face, and tell him 'that he could support her as she always had been accustomed to be supported; and that it was his daughter, and only his daughter, that he asked.' He told her, too, that that time would come soon, and that they were both young, (for Kate was then barely sixteen,) and Kate had said, 'Oh yes, entirely too young to get married,' although Somers had differed from her on that score; but from that day forth, Ned had constantly been at the house at all hours, until he was regarded as one of themselves, and grew to be almost as great a favorite with the old man as with Kate herself; and both looked hopefully forward to the time when Ned's prospects, which were already brightening fast, should be firmly established, without anticipating obstacles of any kind from Rhoneland. Things had gone on thus until Michael Rust came; and with him came a change in all else. There was evidently something between him and Rhoneland, hidden from all others, which had a powerful influence upon the latter, who more than once spoke to Kate of the great wealth of their new guest, inculcating upon her respect and deference to him. At other times the old man spoke to her of observing a strict economy; of saving every farthing, to lay it up in case of need, speaking of gold as if it were omnipotent; and seeming to gloat over it with a miser's hunger; yet such had never been his disposition until Michael Rust came. But that was not all; for, although it would almost have broken her heart to see the fine-soul'd old man, which her father always had been, sinking down into a mere machine for hoarding dollars, with no other instinct or aim in life; it was not that, however, which lay heaviest at her heart. From what had dropped from him at intervals, she knew that there was a stronger bond between him and Rust than the mere obsequiousness which avarice pays to wealth. There was the quick, restless motion of the body when Rust's name was mentioned; the watchful, irresolute glance of the eye when he was present; ever ready to detect his slightest movement, like the look of a person ever in fear, and ever on his guard against attack. There was the nervous, anxious desire to propitiate, to anticipate any thing which he might desire; to remove any thing which might give offence; and unaccompanied by any of those tokens of good-will which indicate that these acts spring from the heart and not from the fears; all showing that whatever tie might connect them, it was not that of love on the part of Rhoneland.