By Kibesillah [pp. 540-552]

BY KIBESILLAH.
lieve me, when I tell you that I love you
with a mother's love and can see for you
no happier lot than the peace and safety
of the convent."
Had Mrs. Hatherton's love been less
selfish and more truly that of a mother,
it is probable that her theories, born of
her own disappointments, would have
been destroyed by the instincts of natural affection. But she was sincere in
her belief, and Kate had learned to look
on marriage as the greatest possible evil
of a woman's existence. The unknown
world of conventional society had few attractions in her imagination, and the nuns
and priests still exerted a strong influence upon her mind and judgment. And
yet and yet-Kate would not own it to
herself, and tried to smother the impulses within her-there was a dumb,
impotent rebellion against her fate growing in her heart and increasing with
every day that brought her larger knowledge of the world. It was only a hotel
or parlor car world that became known
to her, for the most part; but it was all
beautiful in her eyes, and the people who
dwelt therein were free and happy-presumably.
And Kate herself was not positively
unhappy. The pleasure-loving, Bohemian blood that flowed in her veins,
all unsuspected even by herself till of
late, taught her to seek the utmost good
of the moment and to leave the cares of
the future for the evil day that would
usher them into her life. Materiai comfort was yet hers; and of friendship,
family affection, and social excitement,
Kate was too profoundly ignorant to sorrow for their absence from her life. So,
on the summer morning at Madroflo
Springs, there was no thought of sacrifice or of nunneries, but only the gladness of the hour in her heart.
Fatalism is a rather comfortable doc
trine upon which to shift the burden of
human effort and responsibility; and the
record of many lives might seem to offer
some foundation and excuse for the belief of the fatalists. And perhaps, if
Mrs. Hatherton had been able to resign
herself to the futility of human planning,
a propitiated fate might have dealt very
differently with her adopted daughter's
life.
From the beginning it seemed to Mrs.
Hatherton that everything went wrong.
At Del Monte, Monterey, and Lake
Tahoe, there had been no difficulty in
guarding the girl from would-be fortune
hunters. The self-sufficient throngs had
secured the isolation desired. But here,
in the dulness of August, at an unfashionable little retreat for invalids, a persistent young man was forever at Kate's
side, and she, Kate's mother, was somehow powerless to prevent it. Before the
end of three days Arthur had asked Miss
Hatherton to walk with him, and she had
consented, and after that their strolls
were of almost daily occurrence. Mrs.
Hatherton attributed the state of affairs
to the slyness of Mrs. Preston, and certainly that little lady had done her best
for her cousin's pleasure since the arrival
of the pretty San Francisco girl. When
Kate had returned from her walk on that
first morning, she had found her mother
already in the dining room, chatting pleasantly with a lady and two gentlemen at
the same table. No one but the waiter
was to blame for showing the newcomers
to the Prestons' table, and Mrs. Preston,
who had a passing city acquaintance
with Mrs. Hatherton, could not fail to
present her husband and cousin, in accordance with the free social standards
of the little hotel. Yet Mrs. Hatherton
was aggrieved, and her feeling was further intensified when Kate came in and
the introductions were repeated. The
girl quietly took a seat beside her
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