WHOM KATHIE MARRIED. CHAPTER I. "THEN you think I ought not speak of this to Kathie?" The fresh, young voice had an accent of entreaty, as if in hope the listener might relent. Gen. Mackenzie was softly pacing the polished floor of the dusky, old time room in the Piazza di Spagna while his son sat leaning his arm on a small table, his face partially averted, bowed a little on his hand. "My dear boy, you are both so young "If you think I shall change or forget" Bruce began vehemently. "No, no, it is not that. I believe you know your own mind and will keep it. I should be sorry if I could think otherwise of your stability; and it gives me pain to refuse you anything,- you must know that, my dear son. But for Kathie's sake-" "That is just it. Listen a few moments patiently, Bruce, remembering that there is no one in the world whose welfare can be of quite such keen interest to me. Kathie is still a sweet, innocent, unawakened child. You and she have been like brother and sister all these months, and she has not the slightest suspicion of any warmer regard on your part. It is not time for her to think of love. She ought to go on in this unconscious, untroubled way a year of two longer she has so much to see, so much to learn, before she can even judge herself correctly. Why should we lay a burden on her, confuse and trouble her perceptions as to what is coming to herself?" "A burden! As if I would make it any burden!” with the confident ring of youth. 66 She need not be engaged. She can go on just as she is now: I am not a jealous fool!" "Bruce, a marriage engagement is too solemn a thing to hold that way. Either one must be bound or free. These half-measures place a girl in a very equivocal position. I should like to return her to her mother as simple and childlike as she is now. She was intrusted to our care, and you see it is a point of honor. If Mrs. Alston were here to decide, or if Kathie were a year or two older -- " "Still, I do not think Mrs. Alston would question your judgment," returned Bruce, with pardonable pride. "That is one reason why I am so scrupulous. Because I might so easily take the right of deciding her child's future, I do not want to feel that we hastened any change in her. If she does care for you, your absence will help her to find it out. She will contrast others with you, and for this cause, as well as more personal ones, I want your standard kept high and pure. Take the noblest, manliest view of it, my dear son. Think of her for the next two or three years, perhaps, living upon your letters, exaggerating, no doubt, the dangers to which you may be exposed, never feeling that she has the right to be quite care free, denying herself many innocent pleasures through what she considers her duty to you. Do you not see that it would eat the heart and the sweetness out of girlhood?” The young man was silent a moment, then he rose suddenly. "You think it would be selfish in me, I know you do; and it is." There was a new resolution visible in every feature, as he stood in the dying light by the western window. It was a noble face, full of health and energy, and a certain integrity that would command respect anywhere. "I had not looked at it in that light before; I was thinking of myself and the fear of losing her. You will guard her for me?" And his tone was full of tender entreaty. A softened commendation shone in the father's eyes, as he crossed to his son, and Bruce, linking his arm in that of the other, resumed the slow pacing with him. "I will do my best, but," with a fond smile, "I do not think she will require much guarding. And I need not ask you to keep honorable in thought, word, and deed for her sake. You have passed through some of the perils of early manhood unscathed; but in the frontier life, to which you are going, there will be new temptations, and, not the least, the subtle ennui of idleness. O my boy, I should like to keep you with me always!" Bruce pressed the hand he was holding to his lips. To the boy his father had been the ideal of all that was noble and worthy of admiration. The strain and peril of all those years of civil war had given his soul a larger growth than the tranquil times of peace. "It gratifies us to see our sons and daughters taking their places in the great world, and yet it brings a pang of sadness. They can only be children of memory, and the after-friendship must be largely their own gift. We have been more than ordinarily near and dear, and, Bruce, it pains me to refuse you; but I have tried to keep to the highest right and sense of honor." “I am not sure but it will be a better discipline for me if it has a little bitter flavor. It is something to strive for, to win. I shall try to make myself worthy of her, and to keep the respect and esteem of all whom I love. You will not blame me for placing her first?" "I hold that a man has as good a right to strive earnestly for the woman he loves as for any other great prize of life; and often an aim of this kind is the best incentive for a young man, since out of it springs the wider duties of life and citizenship." "It has been such a happy year!" Bruce said in a tone of lingering enjoyment. "I ought to be the more ready to go back after such a grand holiday; but there seems so little that is heroic in frontier life, so little to do, contrasted with the stirring years of the past. It is only the steady tramp, now." "That all the good the past has had Remains to make our own life glad, repeated his father. "Brave, gentle Whittier," rejoined Bruce. "I will try to remember that among the many noble truths he has sung." "We are so apt to think our own times prosaic; but occasionally the victories of peace are greater to a nation than those of war. Heroes are often called into being by the emergency of the hour, and there is an inspiration in being called upon to perform a great deed; but it often takes more real strength and principle to fulfil the daily duties that are demanded of every human being, both by God and his neighbor." Bruce was silent: he had fallen into a revery. He had enjoyed being at West Point, and the prestige of his father's name had given him a leaning toward military life, yet he wondered if he would make the same choice He had no right to shirk: he owed his country her meed of service, even if it was guarding a frontier outpost against marauding Indians and affording protection to travelling traders. He had come to dream of home life, of daily love, of sweeter duties, and the other looked now. |