house. The front-door stood open; and he walked through it to the
back-stoop, where Joris was smoking.

Katherine sat upon the steps of the stoop. Her head was in her hand, her
eyes red with weeping, her whole attitude one of desponding sorrow. But,
at this hour, Neil was indifferent to adverse circumstances. He was
moving in that exultation of spirit which may be simulated by the first
rapture of good wine, but which is only genuine when the soul takes
entire possession of the man, and makes him for some rare, short
interval lord of himself, and contemptuous of all fears and doubts and
difficulties. He never noticed that Joris was less kind than usual; but
touching Katherine, to arouse her attention, said, "Come with me down
the garden, my love."

She looked at him wonderingly. His words and manner were strange and
potent; and, although she had just been assuring herself that she would
resist his advances on every occasion, she rose at his request and gave
him her hand.

Then the tender thoughts which had lain so deep in his heart flew to his
lips, and he wooed her with a fervour and nobility as astonishing to
himself as to Katherine. He reminded her of all the sweet intercourse of
their happy lives, and of the fidelity with which he had loved her.
"When I was a lad ten years old, and saw you first in your mother's
arms, I called you then 'my little wife.' Oh, my Katherine, my sweet
Katherine! Who is there that can take you from me?"

"Neil, like a brother to me you have been. Like a dear brother, I love
you. But your wife to be! That is not the same. Ask me not that."