Kate gave a quick little gasp like a sob and drew back. The aunt nodding over her Bible in the next room had not heard,--she was very deaf,--but for an instant the young woman felt that all the shades of her worthy patriarchal ancestors were hurrying around and away from her in horror. She had come of too good Puritan stock not to know that she was treading in the path of unrighteousness. Nevertheless it was a broad path, and easy. It tempted her. It was exciting. It lured her with promise of satisfying some of her untamed longings and impulses.
She did not look offended. She only drew back to get breath and consider. The wild beating of her heart, the tumult of her cheeks and eyes were all a part of a new emotion. Her vanity was excited, and she thrilled with a wild pleasure. As a duck will take to swimming so she took to the new game, with wonderful facility.
"But I didn't say you might," she cried with a bewildering smile.
"I beg your pardon, fair lady, may I have another?"
His bold, bad face was near her own, so that she did not see the evil triumph that lurked there. She had come to the turning of another way in her life, and just here she might have drawn back if she would. Half she knew this, yet she toyed with the opportunity, and it was gone. The new way seemed so alluring.
"You will first have to prove your right!" she said decidedly, with that pretty commanding air that had conquered so many times.
And in like manner on they went through the evening, frittering the time away at playing with edged tools.
A friendship so begun--if so unworthy an intimacy may be called by that sweet name--boded no good to either of the two, and that evening marked a decided turn for the worse in Kate Leavenworth's career.