"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.
