dear, perhaps you had better sit alongside of Mrs. Rutter until I can get these young fellows cooled off”—­and in a still lower key—­“you behaved admirably, my girl—­admirably.  I’m proud of you.  Mr. Willits has had too much to drink—­that is what is the matter with him, but it will be all over in a minute—­and, Harry, my boy, suppose you help me look up Teackle,” and he laid his hand with an authoritative pressure on the boy’s arm.

The colonel had by this time reached the group and stood trying to catch the cue.  He had heard the closing sentence of St. George’s instructions, but he had missed the provocation, although he had seen Harry’s uplifted fist.

“What’s the matter, St. George?” he inquired nervously.

“Just a little misunderstanding, Talbot, as to who was to dance with our precious Kate,” St. George answered with a laugh, as he gripped Harry’s arm the tighter.  “She is such a darling that it is as much as I can do to keep these young Romeos from running each other through the body, they are so madly in love with her.  I am thinking of making off with her myself as the only way to keep the peace.  Yes, you dear girl, I’ll come back.  Hold the music up for a little while, Talbot, until I can straighten them all out,” and with his arm still tight through Harry’s, the two walked the length of the room and closed the far door behind them.

Kate looked after them and her heart sank all the lower.  She knew the feeling between the two men, and she knew Harry’s hot, ungovernable temper—­the temper of the Rutters.  Patient as he often was, and tender-hearted as he could be, there flashed into his eyes now and then something that frightened her—­something that recalled an incident in the history of his house.  He had learned from his gentle mother to forgive affronts to himself; she had seen him do it many times, overlooking what another man would have resented, but an affront to herself or any other woman was a different matter:  that he would never forgive.  She knew, too, that he had just cause to be offended, for in all her life no one had ever been so rude to her.  That she herself was partly to blame only intensified her anxiety.  Willits loved her, for he had told her so, not once, but several times, although she had answered him only with laughter.  She should have been honest and not played the coquette:  and yet, although the fault was partly her own, never had she been more astonished than at his outburst.  In all her acquaintance with him he had never lost his temper.  Harry, of course, would lay it to Willits’s lack of breeding—­to the taint in his blood.  But she knew better—­it was the insanity produced by drink, combined with his jealousy of Harry, which had caused the gross outrage.  If she had only told Willits herself of her betrothal and not waited to surprise him before the assembled guests, it would have been fairer and spared every one this scene.

All these thoughts coursed through her mind as with head still proudly erect she crossed the room on the colonel’s arm, to a seat beside her future mother-in-law, who had noticed nothing, and to whom not a syllable of the affair would have been mentioned, all such matters being invariably concealed from the dear lady.