"Some time ago, Mr. Underwood," he began, smoothly and easily, "I asked
you for your daughter's hand in marriage, and you honored me with your
consent. Since that time I have paid my addresses to Miss Underwood in
so marked a manner as to leave her no room for doubt or misunderstanding
regarding my intentions, although, finding that she was not inclined to
look upon me with favor, I have hitherto refrained from pressing my
suit. Feeling now that I have given her abundance of time I have this
evening asked her to become my wife, and insisted that I was entitled to
a decision. Instead, however, of giving me a direct answer, she has
suggested that we refer the matter to yourself."
"How is this, Kate?" her father asked, not unkindly; "I supposed you and
I had settled this matter long ago."
Her voice was clear, her tones unfaltering, as she replied: "Before
giving my answer I wanted to ask you, papa, for the last time, whether,
knowing the circumstances as you do and how I regard Mr. Walcott, it is
still your wish that I marry him?"
"It is; and I expect my child to be governed by my wishes in this matter
rather than by her own feelings."
"Have I ever gone contrary to your wishes, papa, or disobeyed you?"
"No, my child, no!"
"Then I shall not attempt it at this late day. I only wanted to be sure
that this was still your wish."
"I desire it above all things," said Mr. Underwood, delighted to find
Kate so ready to accede to his wishes, rising and taking her hand in
his; "and the day that I see my little girl settled in the home which
she will receive as a wedding-gift from her old father will be the
proudest and happiest day of my life."
Kate smiled sadly. "No home can ever seem to me like The Pines, papa,
but I appreciate your kindness, and I want you to know that I am taking
this step solely for your happiness."
She then turned, facing Walcott, who advanced slightly, while Mr.
Underwood made a movement as though to place her hand in his.
"Not yet, papa," she said, gently; then, addressing Walcott, she
continued: "Mr. Walcott, this must be my answer, since you insist upon having one:
Out of love for him who has been both father and mother to me, out of
reverence for his gray hairs frosted by the sorrows of earlier years,
out of regard for his wishes, which have always been my law,--for his
sake only,--I consent to become your wife upon one condition."
"Name it," Walcott replied.
"There can be no love between us, either in our engagement or our
marriage, for, as I have told you, I can never love you, and you
yourself are incapable of love in its best sense; you have not even the
slightest knowledge of what it is. For this reason any token of love
between us would be only a mockery, a farce, and true wedded love is
something too holy, too sacred, to be travestied in any such manner. I
consent to our marriage, therefore, only upon this condition: that we
henceforth treat each other simply with kindness and courtesy; that no
expressions of affection or endearment are to be used by either of us to
the other, and that no word or sign of love ever pass between us."