With the first inkling, however, of the nature of his visits, all her
old abhorrence of him returned with increased intensity, but her
ill-concealed aversion only furnished him with a new incentive and
spurred him to redouble his attentions.
The only opposition encountered by him that appeared in the least to
disturb his equanimity, was that of Duke, which was on all occasions
most forcibly expressed, the latter never failing to greet him with a
low growl, meeting all overtures of friendship with an ominous gleam in
his intelligent eyes and a display of ivory that made Mr. Walcott only
too willing to desist.
"Really, Miss Underwood," Walcott remarked one evening when Duke had
been more than usually demonstrative, "your pet's attentions to me are
sometimes a trifle distracting. Could you not occasionally bestow the
pleasure of his society upon some one else--Mr. Darrell, for instance? I
imagine the two might prove quite congenial to each other."
"Please remember, Mr. Walcott, you are speaking of a friend of mine,"
Kate replied, coldly.
"Mr. Darrell? I beg pardon, I meant no offence; but since he and Duke
seem to share the same unaccountable antipathy towards myself, I
naturally thought there would be a bond of sympathy between them."
Kate had been playing, and was still seated at the piano, idly waiting
for Walcott, who was turning the pages of a new music-book, to make
another selection. She now rose rather wearily, and, leaving the piano,
joined her father and aunt upon the veranda outside.
Walcott pushed the music from him, and, taking Kate's mandolin from off
the piano, followed. Throwing himself down upon the steps at Kate's feet
in an attitude of genuine Spanish abandon and grace, he said, lightly,-"Since you will not favor us further, I will see what I can do."
He possessed little technical knowledge of music, but had quite a
repertoire of songs picked up in his travels in various countries, to
which he could accompany himself upon the guitar or mandolin.
He strummed the strings carelessly for a moment, then, in a low voice,
began a Spanish love-song. There was no need of an interpreter to make
known to Kate the meaning of the song. The low, sweet cadences were full
of tender pleading, every note was tremulous with passion, while the
dark eyes holding her own seemed burning into her very soul.
But the spell of the music worked far differently from Walcott's hopes
or anticipations. Even while angry at herself for listening, Kate could
scarcely restrain the tears, for the tender love-strains brought back so
vividly the memory of those hours--so brief and fleeting--in which she
had known the pure, unalloyed joy of love, that her heart seemed near
bursting. As the last lingering notes died away, the pain was more than
she could endure, and, pleading a slight headache, she excused herself
and went to her room. Throwing herself upon the bed, she gave way to her
feelings, sobbing bitterly as she recalled the sudden, hopeless ending
of the most perfect happiness her young life had ever known. Gradually
the violence of her grief subsided and she grew more calm, but a dull
pain was at her heart, for though unwilling to admit it even to herself,
she was hurt at Darrell's absence on the occasions of Walcott's visits.