CHAPTER V.

KATE KIRBY.

The little brooklet, which danced so merrily by the homestead burial-place, and then flowed on in many graceful turns and evolutions, finally lost itself in a glossy mill-pond, whose waters, when the forest trees were stripped of their foliage, gleamed and twinkled in the smoky autumn light, or lay cold and still beneath the breath of winter.  During this season of the year, from the upper windows of the homestead the mill-pond was discernible, together with a small red building which stood upon its banks.

For many years this house had been occupied by Mr. Kirby, who had been a schoolboy with Ernest Hamilton, and who, though naturally intelligent, had never aspired to any higher employment than that of being miller on the farm of his old friend.  Three years before our story opens Mr. Kirby had died, and a stranger had been employed to take his place.  Mrs. Kirby, however, was so much attached to her woodland home and its forest scenery that she still continued to occupy the low red house together with her daughter Kate, who sighed for no better or more elegant home, although rumor whispered that there was in store for her a far more costly dwelling, than the “Homestead on the Hillside.”

Currently was it reported that during Walter Hamilton’s vacations the winding footpath, which followed the course of the streamlet down to the mill-pond, was trodden more frequently than usual.  The postmaster’s wife, too, had hinted strongly of certain ominous letters from New Haven, which regularly came, directed to Kate, when Walter was not at home; so, putting together these two facts, and adding to them the high estimation in which Mrs. Kirby and her daughter were known to be held by the Hamiltons, it was generally conceded that there could be no shadow of doubt concerning the state of affairs between the heir apparent of the old homestead and the daughter of the poor miller.

Kate was a universal favorite, and by nearly all was it thought that in everything save money she was fully the equal of Walter Hamilton.  To a face and form of the most perfect beauty she added a degree of intelligence and sparkling wit, which, in all the rides, parties, and fetes given by the young people of Glenwood, caused her society to be chosen in preference to those whose fathers counted their money by thousands.

A few there were who said that Kate’s long intimacy with Margaret Hamilton had made her proud; but in the rude dwellings and crazy tenements which skirted the borders of Glenwood village was many a blind old woman, and many a hoary-headed man, who in their daily prayers remembered the beautiful Kate, the “fair forest flower,” who came so oft among them with her sweet young face and gentle words.  For Kate both Margaret and Carrie Hamilton already felt a sisterly affection, while their father smiled graciously upon her, secretly hoping, however, that his son would make a more brilliant match, but resolving not to interfere if at last his choice should fall upon her.