"There's nothing wrong, Bee--don't, oh, don't think that of me!" "I couldn't, dear--no one could!" The curtains were drawn and the house was dark and comparatively cool. Within that soothing shadow, Katherine gathered courage to face the girl, and, little by little, hint at the tempest raging in her soul. It was the old, common story of a proud woman with a hungry heart, denied love and sympathy where she had a right to expect it, and tempted unwillingly, but tempted none the less. "Men are beasts!" exclaimed Beatrice, angrily. "Don't say that, Bee! Ralph has a great deal to bother him, but I can't help wishing he were different. If he were only as he used to be! If I knew, or even thought he loved me--if he would try to understand me--if he wouldn't always misjudge me--but now----" "You're brave enough to fight it out and win, Kit--I know you are!" "I hope so; but what hurts me most is the fear that he--that he knows--that I--that I care--and pities me!" "Who? Ralph?" "No--the--the----" "I understand," said Beatrice, quickly; "you mustn't let him know. Besides, you don't really care. Women often mistake loneliness for something else--don't you think so?" "Perhaps. Oh, if he would only go away, where I would never see him again--if he only would--sometime, in the long years, things would come right between Ralph and me!" "You'll have to wait, Kit. Life is made up of waiting, for women, and it's the hardest thing for us to do. Oh, I know," continued Beatrice, with a harsh laugh; "I fought something out myself once, but I won. It was hard, but I did it, and I'd do it again--I wouldn't be coward enough to run away. When things hurt you, you don't have to let anybody know. You can shut your lips tight, and if you bite your tongue hard it keeps back the tears. I always pretend I'm a rock, with the waves beating against me. Let it hurt inside, if it wants to--you don't have to let anybody see!" The girl's fine courage insensibly strengthened the woman. "I'm so glad you know," she sighed. "I'm glad, too. I'm going now, Kit, and I wish you'd lie down a little while. Don't forget I'm your friend, and I'll always help you when I can, and anyhow, I'll always try." It was characteristic of Beatrice that she went home without any demonstrative farewell. She had been gentle, sympathetic, and genuinely sorry for her cousin, but there was an inner hardness somewhere which the other felt. Overwrought by emotion, Katherine slept for hours, and when she awoke a cool breeze had risen from the lake and was moving her white curtains to and fro. Dull sorrow was gnawing at her heart, but the stab was gone. She dressed and went out, without any particular object in view. The loneliness of the house depressed her, and she felt that she must get away from it; yet she did not wish to talk to any one. As she went toward the gate the Captain's wife met her. "Where are you going?" she asked. "To--to the little lad," faltered Katherine.