But
it will make none in my affection."
"We shall not want the money," said Catherine; "for you know I have a
good deal myself."
"Yes, my dear girl, I know you have something. And he can't touch
that!"
"He would never," said Catherine. "My mother left it to me."
Morris was silent a while. "He was very positive about this, was
he?" he asked at last. "He thought such a message would annoy me
terribly, and make me throw off the mask, eh?"
"I don't know what he thought," said Catherine wearily.
"Please tell him that I care for his message as much as for that!"
And Morris snapped his fingers sonorously.
"I don't think I could tell him that."
"Do you know you sometimes disappoint me?" said Morris.
"I should think I might. I disappoint every one--father and Aunt
Penniman."
"Well, it doesn't matter with me, because I am fonder of you than
they are."
"Yes, Morris," said the girl, with her imagination--what there was of
it--swimming in this happy truth, which seemed, after all, invidious
to no one.
"Is it your belief that he will stick to it--stick to it for ever, to
this idea of disinheriting you?--that your goodness and patience will
never wear out his cruelty?"
"The trouble is that if I marry you, he will think I am not good. He
will think that a proof."
"Ah, then, he will never forgive you!"
This idea, sharply expressed by Morris's handsome lips, renewed for a
moment, to the poor girl's temporarily pacified conscience, all its
dreadful vividness.
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