CHAPTER XIX.
CATHERINE'S DEFIANCE.
"Hear you, best and dearest father in the world ?" she cried, looking quickly up at him again.

"Of course I will! Only, I beg you, don't--don't ask me to--" "I will ask you nothing, Kate, my girl, save this--to consider everything well, and to act like a reasoning, thinking creature, not like an impetuous and romantic school-girl!" Releasing her hands, he once more sat down in the easy-chair, crossed his legs and peered keenly at her, to fathom if he could the inner workings of that other brain and heart.
"Well, father," she said, "I'll admit, right away, that I've done wrong to keep this from you, or to try to.

We--I--broke the engagement, that day of the accident, out at Longmeadow.

I _meant_ to tell you, tell you everything and explain it all, but somehow--" "You needn't explain, my dear," said Flint, judicially.

"Wally has already done so." "And does he blame me, father ?" cried the girl, eagerly, clasping her hands on her knees.
"No, not at all.