Townsend!" murmured Catherine. She trembled as she wondered
what had happened, whether her father had forbidden it.
"I can't in self-respect," said the young man. "Your father has
insulted me."
"Insulted you!"
"He has taunted me with my poverty."
"Oh, you are mistaken--you misunderstood him!" Catherine spoke with
energy, getting up from her chair.
"Perhaps I am too proud--too sensitive. But would you have me
otherwise?" he asked tenderly.
"Where my father is concerned, you must not be sure. He is full of
goodness," said Catherine.
"He laughed at me for having no position! I took it quietly; but
only because he belongs to you."
"I don't know," said Catherine; "I don't know what he thinks. I am
sure he means to be kind. You must not be too proud."
"I will be proud only of you," Morris answered. "Will you meet me in
the Square in the afternoon?"
A great blush on Catherine's part had been the answer to the
declaration I have just quoted. She turned away, heedless of his
question.
"Will you meet me?" he repeated. "It is very quiet there; no one
need see us--toward dusk?"
"It is you who are unkind, it is you who laugh, when you say such
things as that."
"My dear girl!" the young man murmured.
"You know how little there is in me to be proud of. I am ugly and
stupid."
Morris greeted this remark with an ardent murmur, in which she
recognised nothing articulate but an assurance that she was his own
dearest.
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