balcony, humming a little song. Catherine was within the room, in a low rocking-chair, dressed in white, and slowly using a large palmetto fan. It was in this way, at this season, that the aunt and niece, after they had had tea, habitually spent their evenings.
"Catherine," said Mrs. Penniman at last, "I am going to say something that will surprise you."
"Pray do," Catherine answered; "I like surprises. And it is so quiet now."
"Well, then, I have seen Morris Townsend."
If Catherine was surprised, she checked the expression of it; she gave neither a start nor an exclamation. She remained, indeed, for some moments intensely still, and this may very well have been a symptom of emotion. "I hope he was well," she said at last.
"I don't know; he is a great deal changed. He would like very much to see you."
"I would rather not see him," said Catherine, quickly.
"I was afraid you would say that. But you don't seem surprised!"
"I am—very much."
